


Forty Weeks

by amaradangeli



Category: Bones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2009-10-12
Updated: 2013-09-17
Packaged: 2017-12-26 23:19:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 86,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/971464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amaradangeli/pseuds/amaradangeli
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>DISCONTINUED: Pregnancy is a miraculous thing. It's a time filled with wonder and mystery. Temperance Brennan has read the books, she's done the research. But is she really ready for what the next forty weeks will bring?  (Work is cross posted to FFN)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> 05.13.14 - This story has been discontinued and will likely never be completed. It is, however, my post popular work to-date and I'll leave it up for those that enjoyed reading about the first half of Brennan's pregnancy as it existed in my mind.
> 
> Why did I give up on it? Well, it was a tough decision I've now made twice. I do still enjoy the show (after take a year and a half break following Bones' and Booth's uncharacteristic/bombshell (in my opinion) pregnancy). The characters became unrecognizable to me. Now that I'm back with the show I've found I really miss the lovely tension between the characters that the writer's haven't been able to maintain now that they're together. Far from succumbing to the 'Moonlighting Curse' as the show is still very enjoyable, I do find that the 'ship parts of the show that drew me in so fully have now been replaced in my heart by a larger enjoyment of the group dynamic. It's not a bad thing, it just leaves me short of inspiration to finish a fic that relies so heavily on that tension.
> 
> Also, in writing, I made one HUGE mistake - I got the characters together far too soon. I'd outlined, I'd planned a slightly different pat that would have had them coming together a few chapters later. But I'd become restless and abandoned my outline. That's not to say that sticking with the outline would have fixed it - they'd have still gotten together too soon. If I had it to do all over again, I'd wait to really bring them together until, about, Week 38. But, as they say, we live and learn and (hopefully) I'm becoming a better writer with each piece I deliver.
> 
> Lastly, I've moved on to a new (old) fandom. I spend most of my time reading and writing in the Stargate fandom. If you miss me, visit me there please. I'd love to see you!
> 
> Author's Note: This is my second Bones story and I never would have attempted it if it hadn't been for all the wonderful comments I received while writing Slip and Fall. I had trouble finishing that one until the plans for this one were in the works. It's completely different. Whereas that one took place over the course of a couple days this one, unsurprisingly, will take place over the course of forty weeks.
> 
> I have to start by giving pounds and pounds of thanks to tracgyrl without whom this story may not exist in its current incarnation. She's been amazingly patient and extraordinarily supportive as I went through the "what if" process. I'm extremely glad I've "met" her – she's one of those people you happen upon in ficdom that you were just evidently meant to know. She's been lovely about allowing me to flood her inbox with the most minor of changes to – of all things – outlines, not chapters (which are much more interesting reading than outlines). So, for what it's worth, thank you incredibly!
> 
> I hope you all enjoy this story. As I said before it's bound to be different than the first fare I presented, but hopefully the style that drew you all here in the first place will serve me well this time around. I'm very excited about this one.
> 
> ~Amara D'Angeli

She's not sure when it started again. Maybe it was that day in the diner, sitting across from a faded-face-paint wearing Parker and shoulder-to-shoulder with Booth. It makes sense it would have started again then.

Since Booth's coma she hadn't wanted to bring it up. Not that the desire ever went away, but if there was one thing Booth ever taught her it was that there was a time and a place for everything. And no matter how hard she tried she could never quite come up with the right time or place.

But in the diner, enjoying late afternoon treats with the Booth boys, it hit her again – with a force so sudden the only thing she could do was hand over the keys to her building's pool. She wanted a child. Sitting there with Booth and Parker it became clear, she wanted a small human who was part her and definitely part Booth.

A few days later she'd invited him over for dinner. They were just starting a new case. It wasn't particularly gruesome nor particularly harrowing but she was getting little shivers of "wrong time, wrong place". She couldn't help it. She couldn't put it off one more day. She couldn't focus on anything else until she talked to him.

It was scary – and "scared" wasn't an emotion Temperance Brennan had a lot of experience with. She knew of it. She knew she should heed its presence more often. But in the end, fear was an emotion she was wholly uncomfortable with. It made her feel weak and off-balance. No, it was not an emotion she was ever prepared to listen to.

Once he was sitting in her dining room exclaiming over the pot roast she'd prepared, she began to lose her nerve. She'd keep up her end of the conversation, always flitting from one superficial topic to another until he began to give her sidelong looks that gave her the impression he knew something wasn't right in her world. But he was nothing if not careful with her – as often as he could be.

An hour into the meal, that would normally have been comfortable but instead felt a little strained, he pushed his plate away from him slightly and leaned back in his chair. "That was great, Bones!"

She couldn't help but duck her head to cover the slight blush that colored her cheeks. "Thank you."

"I don't want to put you on the spot, but you seem to have something on your mind. Want to share?"

She regarded him with uncertainty in her eyes. "Yes. But also no."

He chuckled and took a drink from the glass of wine she'd poured him. "That's not like you. Usually you're plowing ahead and I'm running to catch up."

"Well, this is important."

He studied her as if he could figure out what was going on in her head if he stared at her long enough. Finally he said, "Very little of what you choose to say isn't important." He noticed her wine glass was empty and refilled it from the bottle that sat between them on the table. "Which means you're probably ready to talk babies again."

She snapped her head up, studying the linen napkin in her lap was no longer a good use of her eyes. She searched his face trying to decide whether or not he was receptive to the idea but she couldn't tell what he was thinking. "I thought, perhaps...Well, that is, I think I'd like to...It's just, I'm..." She began to flounder, twisting her hands back and forth and bunching her napkin into tight wrinkles.

He reached out to still her flailing hands by covering them with one of his own. "Bones." His voice was low and quiet. She'd heard him use it with Parker. "Stop now. We can talk about it. It's okay."

"It's only been a few months."

"Since the surgery? Or since the coma?"

He made the distinction, she was sure, because she so frequently did. The surgery she linked to the idea of him dying. The coma she linked to how their lives, and the baby arrangement, changed. "Either. Both. Does it matter?"

"Yes, it matters. I didn't give up on the idea of you having a baby. Why did you?"

"I didn't!" Her voice took on that hysterical quality she hated. "I didn't give up, it just didn't seem like something I should bring up."

"Because I could have died?"

She couldn't help the tears that filled her eyes even if she hated for him to see the way it still affected her to think of that time in their lives. "Maybe."

"I told you, before the surgery, that if anything happened to me I still wanted you to do it. I wanted you to have the baby."

She wondered why he kept saying "a" and "the" instead of "my" in reference to the baby. Was he really that detached from the whole thing? That didn't seem like him. Unless... "I thought you'd changed your mind. When people face their own mortality it changes the way they feel about even the simplest points of their lives. This is anything but simple."

"This from you? I thought the whole thing was simple. I made a donation, you got pregnant, nine months later you had the baby."

"Our baby." Her voice was barely even a whisper.

"What was that?"

"Our baby," she said louder and with some force. "Not "a" baby, not "the" baby, _your_ baby, Booth. Our baby."

He looked taken aback by her outburst but finally said, "Yeah, Bones, _our_ baby." He spun his wine glass on the table watching the tablecloth twist and straighten beneath the foot of the glass. "After everything, I think I was stalling about bringing it up because I realized I couldn't back down on something so important. I _have_ to be part of this. I can't just give you a baby when that kid's a part of me."

Her shoulders slumped, she couldn't help it. "So you have changed your mind."

He leaned forward and reached across to her. With one finger he raised her chin until he could meet her eyes. "No. I want you to do it, if you want to do it. But I'm in it. The whole messy thing. If you have _my_ baby, it's _my_ baby too. I get to be a dad. At least the kind of dad I am to Parker, more if you'll allow it."

"You couldn't possibly be a better dad than you are to Parker."

"Thank you, but that's not what I meant. I'd give anything to spend more time with Parker than I do. And I want as much time with our baby as I could have."

"So we can do it?"

He smiled at her in that way he had of lighting up a room. "Yeah, we can do it."

But two and a half months later two attempts at intrauterine insemination had failed. Sitting in Dr. Ashbacher's office Brennan nodded solemnly when he delivered the news.

"Dr. Brennan, with this type of insemination, the chance of conception during a cycle is fifteen to twenty percent. Two thirds of women will have conceived after six cycles."

She knew all the statistics. She knew it wasn't all that strange to think she'd not conceived after two procedures. But still she felt discouraged. She still felt...what was that? Fear? She was afraid the longer it took to get pregnant the more time Booth would have to change his mind.

Though she's not sure why she felt that way. The previous month, when she'd told him the procedure hadn't worked, he'd looked as disappointed as she'd felt. And when he'd hugged her, he'd held her just a little differently than he normally did. As if she'd somehow turned partially to glass and he was the only material capable of protecting her.

She could already see the look on his face when she told him later that she still wasn't pregnant.

If she believed in psychic ability she'd think she had a gift because later that day, on their way from the diner to the Jeffersonian, she'd told him. The smile from the joke he'd just told melted right off his face. Her timing, when it came to delivering bad news, was never good.

"That's okay," he'd said reaching across the console to squeeze her slightly trembling hand, "we'll try again in a couple weeks, right?"

"Right," she'd said. And she knew she should give it more time. These things didn't happen overnight. And she was over thirty. And, and, and there were a lot of reasons why it didn't happen straight away.

A couple days later they were eating dinner at a Greek restaurant she'd wanted to try that had opened up on K Street. They'd been talking about the resolution of their last case when suddenly she'd announced, "One more time."

As if he were renting space in her head he'd said, "Are you sure? Dr. Ashbacher said it could take six months or more."

"I can't go through that over and over."

"Bones, it's just pregnant or not pregnant. It's not a painful procedure. It's the same thing you'd be doing if we'd been doing it the old-fashioned way."

"No, it's not the same. One more time because that'll be the last of the sample you provided."

"I can give another sample."

"No. I just...can't. I know it's not rational to get so excited and then feel such a let down when we find out it hasn't worked, but that's what's happening. I can't seem to control it."

"So, this is it, then? One more time?" He sounded dejected and she felt sorry for putting that resonance in his voice. He'd really become attached to the idea of being a father again and she was single handedly limiting that option for him. No, she thought, he could still be a father again – just because they didn't get pregnant didn't mean he wouldn't someday fall in love and start a family with someone else. Why did her stomach clench at the thought?

"I'm sorry, Booth, really I am. I know you've gotten your hopes up about this, too."

"It's okay." He smiled at her even if it was a little watery. "I just want you to do what's right for you. If you say one more time, one more time it is."

"It could happen, right?"

"Definitely."

Later that night, when he'd taken her home, he put the car in park and let the engine idle while he stood on the sidewalk in front of her building with her in his arms. He didn't say anything about the completely irrational tears that moistened her cheeks and left tracks in her makeup. But he was that material again – the only one that could protect her special brand of glass from the world.

They'd try one more time. But that was it. She couldn't stand to be breakable.


	2. Week 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: I'm going to start by saying this isn't really going to be an angsty story. I know it seems that way now and I'm sure you'll feel that way after you finish reading this chapter. Prepare for laughs in the future – the near future at that. But you've got to trust me to get you through these first chapters unscathed. It'll happen, I promise!
> 
> And yes, it's another chapter, quick fast and in a hurry. Please don't get used to it. Most you know I write when I can – both in schedule and in brain power. Today, despite massive amounts of DayQuil, the brain's cooperating. Besides, this story is just begging to be written!
> 
> Also, from here on in there will be a quote at the beginning of each chapter. These are shamelessly stolen from What to Expect (the website version, though, because alas I have no copy of the book in my house). It'll be the main focus of each chapter, but of course, from time to time other stuff will be going on as well.
> 
> This is a short chapter. Some will be that way. Some won't. And honestly I don't know until I'm writing. I just go with what feels right. But I can tell you this – the story will be at least 42 chapters long.
> 
> ~A.

" _This is the last period you'll be having for a while."_

When she and Booth had decided they really were going to try to get pregnant she'd gone out and bought a copy of _What to Expect When You're Expecting_. It seemed to be the most oft named book when she asked what she should read. She'd read it cover to cover in just three days. Booth had laughed when she told him then grimaced when she handed him his own copy of the book – a copy of which she'd pre-flagged the pages she wanted him to pay particular attention to.

Then she'd gotten the second "sorry" from Dr. Ashbacher and she resisted the urge to throw the damn book away. One more time, they'd said. They'd try one more time. After she stopped the bleeding that was becoming insult added to injury.

She hadn't minded getting her period in years. In a way it always made her feel particularly womanly. Not that she'd ever wanted children before but it gave her a bit of a thrill to know she _could_ have them, if she wanted. But in the last couple of months, as if PMS wasn't enough, she'd fought tears of disappointment the entire time she bled.

Booth coddled her in little bits since she'd made up her mind for one more try. He brought her ice cream in the middle of the afternoon on Tuesday. Cam had raised an eyebrow when he'd forked over the treat right there on the platform but had graciously not said a word. Wednesday he'd dropped a chocolate bar on her desk in exchange for a file while she'd been in Limbo. Thursday had been takeout eaten much later than they should have. Friday was an invitation dinner at the diner with him and Parker. Sunday they'd gotten together for coffee after he took Parker back to Rebecca. He was just a little nicer to her, didn't poke didn't prod, certainly didn't instigate a round of bickering.

It seemed like all the glances she and Booth shared were sad, somehow. There was still another chance so even she couldn't figure out why it already felt like it was over. She thought perhaps she was just trying to prepare herself. The odds were against her. Fifteen to twenty percent. One and a half to two times out of ten she'd get pregnant. And this was only the third shot. No, statistics weren't on her side.

But it was hard to think about being pregnant when she had to change a tampon every five hours.

Her weeks started on Tuesdays and that seemed incongruous to her – so long a professional woman instead of a _woman_. She'd been told on a Monday the second IUI hadn't taken. Told on Monday that her body just didn't want to be pregnant. Told on Monday that she'd failed. By lunchtime Monday she'd had to look Booth in eye and dash his own set of hopes as well. She thought, perhaps, it would have been easier to let the doctor tell him. Or at least to have had him sitting next to her when she found out. To have let his solidity comfort her.

By Tuesday afternoon she'd started bleeding. She cried like a silly little school girl in the Jeffersonian lavatory as she'd pulled the pink and white packet out of her purse to stem the flow. She didn't know why she'd cried. She already knew she wasn't pregnant. He'd brought her the ice cream that day. The look in his eye meant something to her. It raised the smallest of suspicions in Cam. Because while Booth catered to Brennan in a way that made the others feel just a little like outsiders he'd _never_ brought her ice cream in the middle of a work day.

By Wednesday she had collected herself. She didn't want people looking at her with questions in their eyes. He'd come to the Jeffersonian but she'd been in Limbo, piecing together the skeleton of a two-hundred year old Dutch girl. She didn't see him but she'd known he was there because where there had been a file documenting their most recent case was later a Hershey bar with almonds. Later that afternoon she'd been sitting at her desk typing her findings on the Dutch skeleton when Angela had wandered in and commented on the half eaten chocolate bar that had almond pieces jabbing out from an otherwise smooth break.

Thursday night he'd shown up at her apartment with Thai take out and a small smile. She could tell he was trying to hide the bit of sadness in his eyes. She wanted to tell them they could try again and again until finally it worked – just to make that look of defeat disappear from his beautiful eyes. But she couldn't. Not without making her own eyes swim in a desperate sea. They'd eaten, that night, at eleven o'clock while bad news played in the background on a television she'd bought at the local branch of some huge electronics chain.

Friday she'd had dinner at the diner again sitting shoulder to shoulder with him and across from Parker whose adorable little face no longer held any trace of Angela's semi-permanent paints. Parker went on and on about visiting the pool that weekend and couldn't she just take _one_ day off to swim with them? She begged off, citing work, but promised to go along the next time. Spending time with Parker when all she really wanted was a tiny little Parker growing inside her made everything harder, somehow.

Sunday afternoon, late when the sun was trying it's best to finally go down, she and Booth met for coffee at the Starbucks right around the corner from her apartment. They'd talked about anything in the world but babies and he didn't talk much about Parker, after that one moment he swore she'd teared up at his name. Just as they were getting ready to leave she'd said, "A week from tomorrow we'll try again."

He nodded at her and asked as he had the previous two times, "Want me to go with you?"

She shook her head emphatically. "No, there's really not much to be there for. You can't be in the procedure room anyway." Which was a lie. He could be in the procedure room if she let him. But if it wasn't going to take she didn't want him there for the crucial moment. Not that, she couldn't bear it.

When Monday dawned she discovered she wasn't bleeding anymore. Ahead of her was a week of inaction. At least while she was bleeding her body was preparing. And, she supposed her body still was – she just didn't have any evidence. Never having been one of the women whose breasts started to go tender when they ovulated, she had no outward indications her body would be receptive to the very last of Booth's sperm she'd be privy to. But it was Monday and that meant it was the last day of her week.

Tuesday she'd start again and be just one step closer to what she was sure would be another failure.


	3. Week 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: On the first read through I thought this wasn't a particularly strong chapter. But then, as I read it back through, I realized it perfectly conveyed the feeling of the week. Well, perfectly in my mind. I hope it gives you the same sense of frustration it did Brennan and me. :)
> 
> ~A.

" _No, there's no baby or even an embryo in sight."_

She'd decided, back when she first started trying to get pregnant, Tuesdays were awful. It was the always _the day after_. The first day of whatever came next. And she hadn't exactly had a whole lot of luck with _next_.

She had a week to kill – a week where there wasn't anything to think about that was remotely pregnancy related. And even with that she still found it difficult to concentrate on her work. She couldn't decide whether or not she wanted the distraction of a new case and piecing together ancient skeletons could barely hold her interest.

Booth was busy that week which was good because he could barely contain his excitement. Part of her found his excitement infectious. Part of her was excited too. But part of her was terrified she'd have to tell him, yet again, they weren't pregnant. She was almost more upset about having to tell him than she was about finding out herself. Almost. A very small part of her was terrified to receive the news – either positive or negative. And she truly hated feeling responsible for someone else's happiness.

On Tuesday she had to fight the feeling the following week's attempt at insemination was _forever_ away. She knew, factually, it was seven days. Or possibly, she knew but couldn't bring herself to tell Booth, as many as ten days. It was up to her body. Her traitorous body, as she'd come to think of it. She was healthy. She took exceptional care of herself. Booth had a truly impressive sperm count. What was the problem?

By Wednesday she was going stir crazy being locked inside her mind. She started to wish the whole thing was over just so she could feel like herself again. She really felt as if there was someone else inhabiting her body. She knew part of that was due to the hormone supplements she was taking. Earlier that day she took them at the office instead of at home as she drank her coffee the way she normally did. Just as she placed the pills on the back of her tongue Angela had come into her office.

"Dosing, Bren?"

Brennan took a swallow from her bottle of water. "I don't know what that means."

"Never mind." Angela shook her head in amusement. "The remains you asked for have been laid out in Limbo. Are you ready to head down?"

"I really wish you wouldn't call it that." Brennan collected her tape recorder and shrugged into her lab coat.

"Let it go, Sweetie."

As she recalled the conversation she was surprised Angela hadn't probed her for more information concerning the pills. She knew it was common knowledge she rarely took anything.

She and Angela worked on the remains for the better part of the day and though Angela was able to reconstruct the face Brennan's heart was never really in the project. Angela never mentioned Brennan's lack of focus, which was also strange. And later that evening, when she drank one of the three glasses of wine a week she allowed herself while trying to get pregnant, she realized Angela's lack of inquiry was singularly odd.

On Thursday she realized she hadn't seen Booth since Sunday. She held out as long as she could. But at ten o'clock she found herself dialing his familiar number. "Bones," he answered, "you're supposed to be getting plenty of rest."

"I am getting plenty of rest," she snapped at him.

"Whoa, there. Down girl."

She sighed. "Sorry. I'm sorry."

"Feeling the stress of inactivity, are you?"

"Of all the weeks to not get a case…"

"Look at it as an opportunity to catch up on all that work that's your "true passion"."

"I can't concentrate," she sighed. "I can't concentrate on anything. And I'm paranoid."

He laughed. "Paranoid?"

"Angela saw me take my hormone supplements this morning and she didn't say anything. Nor did she say anything about my obvious distraction at work today."

"Is it possible she just didn't notice?"

"I suppose so, but this is Angela we're talking about. She doesn't miss anything. Which means she knows something is going on but doesn't want to tip her hand yet."

"Perfect use of an idiom, by the way. But you're right, you're paranoid. No one knows you're trying to get pregnant."

"Except you."

"Except me." He paused. "Wait, you think _I_ told Angela? She'd kick my ass for going about it this way."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. Never mind." She could hear him shift in the background and a grin creep into his voice. "So, you miss me yet?"

"Goodnight, Booth."

"Wait!"

She waited but he didn't say anything. "Yes?"

"Lunch at the diner tomorrow?"

"Sure."

"Okay, see you then."

On Friday she considered writing a chapter for her book based solely on inactivity. Perhaps it could be the basis for case. The killer was driven to it by inactivity. She'd written a thousand ludicrous words before she hit the delete key. Trying to get pregnant was really starting to mess with her head. She hardly recognized herself for the woman she knew herself to be. She was calm, she was rational. And at that moment she was watching the clock edge forward minute by minute until Booth would arrive to take her to lunch. She sighed, disgustedly, and went back to work on the platform.

Sometime Sunday she looked up to realize she'd dusted her entire collection of books. Each one had been removed from its place on the shelf, dusted and stacked on the floor. When Booth knocked and let himself in he found her perched atop a six foot ladder dusting the highest shelf and the statutes that graced the furniture's top line. He'd dragged her to dinner then and later helped her replace all the books. "Maybe you are going a little crazy," he agreed even later when she'd asserted the same over a shared bowl of lemon sorbet.

Monday she started taking her temperature again when she woke up. It was normal on Monday morning. She suspected it would be. She'd likely start ovulating on Tuesday. The _first_ day. Why should the longest week she'd ever endured end with the fresh breath of possible life? Then, when she realized she no longer resembled the pragmatic scientist she'd always prided herself on being, and rather resembled some tragically romantic teenager, she calmly returned the thermometer to its off-white plastic case and hurtled it at the back wall of her shower.

Pragmatic.


	4. Week 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: First off, thanks to everyone who's take the time to review. I'm having a tough time keeping up, so if I haven't responded, I'm terribly sorry! But, life gets in the way sometimes and part of me thinks you'll forgive the lack of responses in exchange for another chapter.
> 
> Also, many thanks to the lots of you who've added me or the story to subscription and favorite lists. I'm all kinds of honored!
> 
> This one isn't quite as angsty as the last couple were. But we're not out of the woods yet, folks. Prepare for humor in the near future, though. It'll happen. I promise!

" _For now, though, and the next couple of weeks, it'll be like nothing is happening – at least on the outside."_

Tuesday when she woke she had to reach behind the toilet to get the thermometer she'd tossed the morning before. She waited three minutes for the mercury to rise – despite her scientific background she just couldn't bring herself to trust digital thermometers – and checked the read. Yes, slightly elevated. She placed the requisite call to Dr. Ashbacher's office and left a message with his service. She started to dial Booth's number then realized she didn't yet have anything to tell him. What was she supposed to say? "Good news, Booth, I'm ovulating"? She considered that a second time and shrugged as if to say, "Well, it's somewhere to start," but then decided against reaching for the phone.

Just as she was parking her car at the Jeffersonian the call came from Dr. Ashbacher's office. Wait, they said. Wednesday would be better. Twenty minutes later that's where Booth found her, her forehead resting on the steering wheel and tears trekking down her face. He'd pulled her out of the car and into his arms before she'd even really realized he was there.

"What is it, Bones?" There was a note of panic in his voice.

"They told me," she said around broken sobs, "I had to wait until tomorrow for the insemination."

A smile bloomed across his face and his shoulders sagged in relief. "So you'll go tomorrow."

"I wanted to go today." She wiped her cheeks on the shoulder of his suit jacket.

He rubbed her back soothingly. "You'll have a better chance of getting pregnant tomorrow, right?"

"Yes," she sniffled.

"Then tomorrow's the better bet. One more day."

"I'm never going to make it through today."

"Sure you will. We'll be busy. We've got a case."

She groaned, "Where was the case last week when I really needed it?"

True to his word he kept her busy that day. At seven he finally forced her from the lab and into his SUV. On the way back to her apartment they stopped for takeout at a little authentic Italian place. It wasn't until he parked she realized she'd driven that day. By the time he'd convinced her it was all a part of his master plan to take her to the doctor's office the following morning, and she'd relented, they'd dished up their food and poured tall glasses of carbonated water into lime lined glasses.

The following morning he'd picked her up at seven and handed her a cup of herbal tea. She grumbled that it wasn't coffee and he said something about avoiding caffeine and they were on their way. At the doctor's office she banished him to the waiting room while she underwent the procedure. And ten minutes later she was ushering him back to his SUV.

"Shouldn't you be lying down for a half hour or something?"

"Intra _uterine_ , Booth, no chance of seepage," she said much to his consternation. She barely hid her grin at his grimace.

She had to admit, as Wednesday faded into Thursday, she was in a much better mood than she'd been in the last couple of weeks. She was better able to focus on her work. She was still worried, almost irrationally, that the insemination wouldn't take. But somehow she felt better knowing that deep inside her body Booth's sperm were trying to do their work.

Thursday evening, while Brennan and Booth stood in her office, Angela invited her to a girl's night out dinner. Brennan shot a look at Booth who just moments before had held her coat while asking where she'd like to have dinner that night. He gave her a little smile and pushed her slightly toward Angela saying something about beer and a football game. Brennan joined Angela for dinner and turned down wine with dinner and margaritas afterwards. Angela asked but Brennan evaded and quietly sipped her water.

On Friday Booth and Parker visited the Jeffersonian and the only thing the young boy talked about was swimming. Brennan held good to her word and later that night found herself splashing water under a full moon sky like she was eight again.

When she was making hot tea, and trying not to be completely aware that Booth was tucking an exhausted Parker into her bed until it was time to go home, he asked, "so how do they do it?" He had a sparkle in his eyes when she turned toward him.

"Do what?"

"The intrauterine insemination? Do they stick you with a big, long needle, or what?"

"It's more like a syringe with a tube." He looked confused so she continued, "The sperm are delivered by passing the tube, which is actually called a catheter, into the vagina, through the cervical opening, and into the uterus."

He looked a little green when she handed him the tea. "Uh, thanks, Bones."

"Well," she said reasonably, "you asked."

Saturday found her tearing up over a toilet paper commercial and she decided enough was enough. Her hormones had been completely hijacked by the insemination process. She no longer recognized the level headed scientist she knew herself to be. She'd _cried_ , Tuesday morning, when they'd told her it would be better to wait until Wednesday to attempt insemination. It was _logical_ to wait. Since when did she cry over logical?

Sunday morning she had breakfast with Booth and Parker before they went to church. Parker left a kiss, sticky with pancake syrup, pressed on her cheek which she refused to wash off until she got to the lab. It was irrational to feel a connection to the child through a confection glaze kiss but she did. On Friday, when it was past time for Booth to take his young son home, the two of them roused Parker from a sound sleep where he was nestled down deep in her bed. She'd almost asked Booth to leave him, asked Booth if he'd like to stay himself. After all, she had a guest room. But in the end she just ran long fingers through curly blondish hair and hugged them both goodbye at her door.

Monday came and went before she'd even realized it happened. It was eleven when she realized she'd made it through another week. Eleven when her phone rang and Booth admonished her as soon as she picked up, "you should be in bed by now." Monday when she realized in just a couple weeks she'd find out whether or not she'd ever be a mother.

And just like that, the fear she'd managed to banish for the better part of the week returned.


	5. Week 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: I know it's short – that's just the way this one goes!

" _You may start exhibiting early pregnancy symptoms like bloating, cramping, and mood swings that feel similar to premenstrual symptoms."_

Tuesday morning found her utterly exhausted. She'd barely slept at all the night before. The more she thought about getting pregnant the more she worried it wouldn't happen. She thought of all the ways she could tell Booth she wasn't pregnant. Ways that were less blunt than the ways she'd told him before. Especially since it would be the last time she'd have to deliver the news.

She'd finally fallen asleep around four but her alarm, as always, went off at five thirty. She dressed as if she was in a fog and wasn't fully awake until sometime much later when she found herself on the platform at the Jeffersonian. She realized, then, she couldn't even remember driving in to work.

She left at five that evening while everyone else was still busying the evening away in their offices. Once home she took a quick shower and was in bed long before the sun went down.

Wednesday morning her alarm woke her as usual. She'd slept over ten hours! She couldn't remember the last time she'd slept so long. A quick check of her cell phone noted no missed calls. And she went about her day.

That night, on her way home, she found herself craving chocolate. She'd picked up a chocolate bar from the newsstand around the corner from her building and was halfway through it before she realized she always craved chocolate a week before her period. She didn't sleep Wednesday night either.

Thursday she'd swapped her button fly cargo pants for something looser fitting around the waist. She was bloated. Great. On the way to a crime scene Booth stopped at a coffee shop where he purchased their largest hot chocolate and looked at her sideways when she snapped at him for following too closely to the vehicle in front of them.

Friday she felt that low sort of rippling cramping that signaled she'd soon need feminine products and she broke down in the aisle of Rite Aid where Booth had stopped to pick up a prescription his doctor had written for his back pain. He'd looked at her like he'd never seen her before. "God, Bones, what's wrong?"

Her tears dried as quickly as they started and she'd tossed a smart remark over her shoulder and went to wait at the SUV for him. For the rest of the day he treated her as if she were a device the bomb squad had determined volatile.

Saturday she sat on the floor in her living room, legs pretzeled up in a yoga pose Booth insisted on teasing her over from his much more dignified place on the couch.

"I'm not the one with back problems," she'd finally retorted when he'd gone on and on about how he thought the virtues of yoga were completely fabricated. That's how she ended helping him through the sun salutation. Mountain, hands up, head to knees, lunge, plank, stick, cobra, downward facing dog, lunge, head to knees, hands up, mountain.

He awkwardly forced his body through the postures, following her as best he could when she kept telling him not to turn his head, to keep his spine in line, no, don't exhale…inhale. Finally she took pity on him and used sure hands to sculpt his body into the right lines and shapes. By the time he'd worked his way through the exercises twice with her help she discovered she needed the mind settling effects of the sun salutation herself.

Later that afternoon he'd tried for twenty solid minutes to find out what had been bothering her all week while trying to tell her the entire time, "I understand why you're so worried. Just talk to me, Bones." And even after the day they'd spent together in relative harmony by the time he left she was snipping at him as if he'd gone out of his way to ruin her day.

Sunday she did her grocery shopping. With a defiant flick of her wrist she tossed a box of tampons into the far corner of her cart and kept walking. The twinges that signaled an impending period had not gone away.

Monday she called Dr. Ashbacher's office to make an appointment for a week from Wednesday for her follow up appointment and settled in for another week of waiting.


	6. Week 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: This chapter sort of took on a life of its own. Plus, the second half of it got written during tonight's episode (which I'm not going to spoil for those of you who haven't seen it yet even though I'm dying to get other people's thoughts…). I hope you enjoy. Oh, and the story starts picking up now…

" _Mood swings are totally normal (kind of like PMS on overdrive) and you'd better get used to them since they'll be hanging around for the next nine months or so."_

Brennan knew she was the sort of woman people would generally call "together". "Cool". "Levelheaded". She was feeling none of those things on Tuesday when, before lunch, she'd already been to three different crime scenes that appeared to be completely unrelated.

When she'd risen that morning she hadn't wanted to go to work. As best she could remember she'd _always_ wanted to go to work. But as she'd dressed and made coffee she realized she had very little patience for the minutia of getting through a day.

Booth had retrieved her from the Jeffersonian at a quarter past eight and by nine they'd reached an argumentative stalemate that left him gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles and clenching his jaw in such a way he'd developed an angry looking tick. He seemed disinclined to speak with her at all and in truth she wasn't all that upset.

At eleven he'd finally tossed a seething, "What the hell is wrong with you today," in her general direction and threw the latex gloves she'd requested, none too politely, in the direction of her chest.

When they were finally able to break for lunch she'd demanded he drop her back at the Jeffersonian and refrain from calling her until whatever was wrong with him had worked itself out. He looked at her like _she_ was insane and barely waited for her to exit the SUV before pulling back out into traffic. Bastard, she thought.

But by eight o'clock that night she'd worked herself into a state of panic when she couldn't find the prescription bottle of hormone pills the doctor had prescribed. When she'd finally realized they were likely in his SUV, along with her earlier forgotten jacket and sunglasses, she'd been unable to contain tears of frustration. He'd answered the phone with a terse, "God, Bones, what did I do now?"

"I think I left my prescription in your truck, Booth, and I have to take it."

He'd sighed when he could hear the tears choking her voice and offered to check for her and bring the bottle by if, indeed, she had left the pills. Half an hour later he appeared on her doorstep with the bottle, her jacket, her sunglasses, a bouquet of winter flowers, and a contrite smile. "I'm not sure what today was all about but I feel like I owe you an apology."

She waved him inside but couldn't speak for the fresh wave of tears that surprised her. He'd set his entire burden on an end table and gathered her into a hug before she broke down completely. He held her for a moment until she started to fidget uncomfortably and then he ushered her to the couch. He got her curled up and comfortable underneath an ethnic looking throw and went to get her a glass of water so she could take her pills.

After a few more minutes she'd calmed considerably so he decided to broach a topic he was sure would prompt an unfavorable reaction. "You've been a little...emotional...the last few days."

"It's likely just premenstrual syndrome. I'm due to start my period any day."

"Unless you're pregnant."

"It's too soon to tell." Her eyes filled again and she reached for a tissue. "Damn it, I can't stop crying."

"I'm not sure what I can say here, Bones, care to point me in one direction or another?"

"There's nothing you can say. Either we're pregnant or we're not and we just have to wait to find out."

"If you are pregnant you're almost two weeks pregnant."

"Technically, if I were pregnant, I'd be considered five weeks today."

"Okay, I know I'm no genius but I'm pretty good with simple math. And you were inseminated two weeks ago tomorrow."

"They count from the first day of my last menstrual cycle." She wiped tears that were leaking from the corners of her eyes. "But I feel like I'm getting ready to start my period. Which means none of this conversation matters."

"When do you see the doctor again?"

"Wednesday."

"I want to go." She'd expected he'd say that. He'd asked the previous two times as well. She'd always told him no, she didn't need him to go with her.

She surprised him, she could tell, when she said, "I'd like you to go, too."

"Really?" He sounded so hopeful and part of her felt bad for removing him so far from the process.

"Yes."

"Because you think he's going to tell you you're not pregnant."

She nodded through yet another haze of tears. He couldn't not pull her into his arms when she looked so very fragile. She collapsed against his chest and he banded his arms tightly around her. "Well," he finally said, "for what it's worth, I think you _are_ pregnant." It wasn't his intention but his words only made her cry harder.

Wednesday when she tried to pick fights with him he maintained his patience. Unfortunately that only seemed to piss her off more. That night, when he showed up at her place, he handed over a huge, steaming Styrofoam cup of hot chocolate which produced laughter. He figured that was a huge improvement over the roll of duct tape she'd beaned him in the back of the head with earlier.

Thursday night he showed up with dinner and a large box of tissues. She'd spent the better part of the day crying over every little thing. That also meant she'd spent the better part of the day avoiding the Jeffersonian and the prying and very acute eyes of Angela and Cam. After spending a day crying she had to admit she preferred days of anger over days of tears.

"I'll take weepy-Bones over all-star-pitcher-Bones any day," he'd said around a mouth full of Moo Shu Pork.

She'd just dug into her vegetable Mei Fun when it occurred to her, "I haven't gotten my period yet."

Booth was still visibly uncomfortable with such blatant talk of her reproductive system but he'd been making a concerted effort not to blush when she said things like that. A smile started tugging at the corners of his mouth. "So, you're late?"

She gave him a big, toothy grin. "Yes."

"I have to say I never envisioned a point in my life when I'd be so glad to hear a woman who wasn't my wife say those words for that reason."

She couldn't help but laugh. "I'm late."

He beamed at her. "So, I guess you're feeling better now."

"I _am_ feeling a little better. But it's important we don't get our hopes up. It could just be stress."

"Yeah," he said with a nod that said he didn't buy that for a minute. "But you've been PMSing like crazy and you haven't started your...well, you know. You've got to be pregnant."

"Stop it. You're going to jinx it."

He stopped with his fork half way to his mouth. "Did you just say "jinx"?"

"I think I'm allowed to be superstitious now of all times, don't you?"

"Bones, if you're not pregnant I'll go vegetarian for a month. The hormones are messing with your brain. They've commandeered your rational processes."

"You're superstitious," she pointed out as if she'd made a good argument.

"I'm not the point. Temperance Brennan not only said "jinx" but truly believed it's a possibility." He made to stand up, "I've got to write this down."

She grabbed his wrist and tugged until he was sitting again. He tipped back until the dining room chair he was sitting in rocked onto its back two legs. "There's no need to mock me." She harrumphed and went back to her dinner but both of them were grinning like fools.

On Friday Hodgins gave her particulate analysis on one of the active crime scenes that included the words "insufficient samples collected by FBI crime scene technicians". Ten minutes later Angela, Cam and Arastoo had joined Hodgins and Brennan on the platform to find out what all the commotion was about. It took them all more than half her tirade to pinpoint the offenders and what the offense was. Angela raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at her friend when the rant's wheels came off the wagon and Brennan went off on a tangent concerning the security in the parking garage.

When Brennan finally reeled herself in and stormed off to her office Angela and Cam exchanged glances. Which one would go after her? Cam raised her hands in surrender and turned back to her own office. Angela sighed and followed after Brennan, against her better judgment.

Angela knocked on Brennan's door before pushing it open a couple inches. "Uh, Sweetie, want to tell me what that was all about?"

Brennan was still seething. "The FBI crime scene technicians are completely inept. They're compromising the investigation by not properly collecting evidence."

Angela ventured the rest of the way into the office. "I don't think they're _completely_ inept, Bren. There's some education involved there…" She sat down on the couch. "And the security in the parking garage has what, exactly, to do with the crime scene technicians?"

Brennan was truly lost. "What? Who said anything about the parking garage?"

"Um, you did. Are you feeling all right?"

"Of course, I'm all right," Brennan snapped. "Why do people keep asking me if I'm all right?"

Angela tried a little longer to get to the bottom of her friend's bizarre behavior but finally even she gave up. "When you're ready to talk, Bren, you know where to find me."

"Yes, I do."

Saturday morning Booth brought Parker back over to use her pool. The adults sat in deck chairs exclaiming over the new tricks Parker would perform from time to time.

"So, I'm guessing you're still late. I mean, you would have told me if you'd, you know, started. Right?"

"Of course," she said as if he shouldn't have any reason to ask.

"I wasn't sure if bringing Parker here today would be a good thing or not?"

She took a long sip of her lemonade. "Why not?"

"Well, you've been a little volatile this week. I heard about yesterday, by the way."

She groaned. "From who?"

"Angela." He took a sip of his iced tea. "And Cam. And Hodgins."

"Well, really the crime scene technicians did a very poor job of collecting evidence."

"You do know that no one is actually concerned about your disgruntlement with the FBI CST's, right? You went off in the middle of the platform. And _that_ is pretty out of character for you." He ended on a laugh but she wasn't laughing with him.

"I was upset."

"Clearly."

"And you thought I might _go off_ , as you put it, on Parker?"

"Okay, before you _go off_ on _me_ I'm pulling out of this conversation."

"Well," she huffed, "you started it."

Monday night Booth brought her Indian takeout. "Ooh, Chana Masala." She identified the food before he'd even removed it from its paper bag.

"You know, it's kind of creepy how you can do that."

"Why? You can identify hamburgers from thirty yards."

"Yeah, Bones, but that's _meat_. This is chickpeas," he said with a sneer.

"And spices." They shared a grin.

He unpacked the food in the kitchen while she poured iced tea. "What time is our appointment Wednesday?"

"Eight. You know, you don't have to go if you don't want to…"

"Oh no, no backing out now. You said I could go, I'm going."

"I didn't say I didn't want you to go."

"You were trying to get me to say I wasn't going to go so I'd think it was my idea not to go. I'm on to you, Bones."

"I know I'm almost a week late, but it doesn't mean I'm pregnant. You do know that, right?" Her voice had taken on a very serious edge.

He spun around to face her and leaned against the counter. He reached out for her arm and pulled her into his chest. He embraced her and hooked his chin on the crown of her head. "I know. And whatever it is, Bones, we'll deal with it together."

"If I'm not pregnant there won't be anything to deal with."

He knew she wasn't trying to be callous so he said, "well, there will be for me. I'm going to be sad if we're not pregnant. But I understand your decision not to try again if we're not. But if you change your mind—"

"I won't," she cut in. "This has been truly excruciating."

"I know." He rubbed his chin back and forth through the silk of her hair letting his five o'clock shadow muss up the strands. "But I still think we're pregnant."

"You keep saying "we" like we'll both be carrying the baby."

"Hey, I admit you'll be doing the hard part. But it's hard not to say "we" when it really is "we", you know?"

"I think I've lost the thread of the conversation."

He pulled back from her. "Clearly you need protein, then. Let's eat."


	7. Week 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: First and foremost I want to thank everyone for the wonderful reactions to this story thus far. Hopefully I'm doing something in a way it hasn't really been done before. Certainly, that was my intent.
> 
> Also, I've received a lot of wonderful reviews so far. I haven't been able to answer them all individually, but I've definitely been trying to answer the ones with specific questions or comments. But seeing a "love it, keep going!" does my heart good as well. Thanks also to all the people that keep adding it to their alert lists. I'm so glad so many people are enjoying the story.
> 
> Okay, now on with the show...
> 
> ~Amara

" _Your body may not yet have changed on the outside, but there's a lot happening on the inside."_

By the time dinner was ready Tuesday she was so tightly wound she'd condemned herself to a sleepless night. Booth, however, had passed out on her couch an hour before. In his defense he'd spent the better part of the day chasing suspects. On foot. She contemplated him from the end of the couch where his feet hung over the arm. If she were to just lean forward a little bit the soles of his stocking feet would rest on her thighs. She wouldn't lean forward, though, and instead reached down to grasp one strong ankle. She intended to shake him a little, but the touch ended up more a caress. "Booth? Dinner's ready."

He stretched before opening his eyes and rumbled low in his chest. She could see the vibrations shudder across the material of his dress shirt and shimmy the fine fabric of his tie. "Smells good." She smiled as his eyes opened. His eyes trailed down her, down her arm to her hand where it still rested on his ankle. He wiggled his toes until they brushed the sensitive inside of her forearm and she yanked back. A lazy smile spread across his face. "What did you make?" He sat up slowly, wincing at a quick twinge in his back, and then spun himself until he was rightly seated on the couch, toes digging into the carpet piling.

"Baba Ganoush. But I baked some chicken as well."

"Aw, thanks, Bones!"

"Well, you may very well be going vegetarian for a month so I figured the least I could do was cook you a last meal with meat."

He sighed and relaxed back into the couch, but he waved her around until she was sitting next to him. "I'm serious, Bones. I really do think you're pregnant."

She nodded solemnly. "I suspect I might be as well, I'm a week late today. I've never been that late before. But the anticipation may have thrown my cycle off." She picked at a snagged thread on the knee of her slacks. "I really want the test to come back positive."

"Me too," he whispered.

She looked at him and was slightly taken aback by the emotion in his eyes. She wasn't the most astute when it came to emotional matters, but that didn't mean she didn't _have_ emotions or that she couldn't recognize them. "I can't believe I haven't asked before, but will _you_ be okay if Dr. Ashbacher tells me I'm not pregnant tomorrow?"

"I said before I'd be sad, and I would be. I'd be sad because over the last three and a half months I've ridden this roller coaster with you. I've done a lot of soul searching and I really want this baby. But I'd be sad _for_ you, too. Somehow you've decided this is going to be your only chance to have a baby. And you've decided it's too hard to go through trying another round if this last try didn't work. So yeah, I'll be sad if we find out we're not pregnant tomorrow. But I'd be okay. No matter what, Bones, I have Parker. And I have you. And if you and I don't have a kid together it's not going to change the fact you're one of the most important people in my life."

She stared at him as if she couldn't find her way out of that particular bog of emotions. Finally she said, "We'd better eat. Dinner will get cold." She'd moved back into the kitchen so quickly he barely had time to register she'd gone.

The conversation over dinner was thin and tense. It wasn't until they stood side by side in the kitchen, he washing the dishes, she drying and putting them away, that he said, "I want you to feel what I feel when I look at Parker. I want you to know what unconditional love is like."

He sat up with her until two in the morning playing Gin and keeping score on the back of an envelope she'd produced from a junk drawer he was shocked to discover she had. They played a penny a point and by the time her eyes couldn't focus on the cards anymore she owed him nearly four hundred dollars. When he left he kissed her forehead and promised to pick her up at seven fifteen.

She slept fitfully in twenty minute bursts. Asleep, awake, asleep, awake, until finally, at five, she couldn't take anymore and got out of bed to start her day. She started by taking a long shower. She shaved her legs and wondered how she was going to do that in an advanced state of pregnancy. If, she reminded herself, she was actually pregnant.

When she got out the shower her nerves got the better of her. The low grade nausea she'd been fighting since midnight manifested. She _hated_ vomiting but she understood the body's natural process and succumbed to the pressure. For a moment the phrase " _morning sickness"_ flitted through her mind but she pushed it away – she wasn't going to call the symptoms she'd been experiencing the last couple of weeks _pregnancy_ until Dr. Ashbacher told her one way or the other.

She dressed and found she still had an hour and a half until Booth showed up to take her to her appointment. She logged on to her email and sent messages to the team at the Jeffersonian reminding them she had an appointment first thing in the morning and she wouldn't be in until nine or so.

After that she opened the most recent chapter of her book and tried to write. She found, though, that no matter which direction she tried to take she couldn't get anything readable down on paper. With disgust she closed the file and turned on the news. She'd come to discover she really detested watching the news. It seemed like all news was bad. But more than news she hated popular television. After twenty minutes she switched to the History Channel but discovered only paid-for advertisements for some exercise equipment.

So she made her bed, started a load of laundry, cleared clutter off her desk and waited. Impatiently. And ten minutes before Booth was due to arrive she gave in to another bout of nausea that hit her so hard her eyes leaked tears and ruined her carefully applied make-up. By the time he knocked she'd put herself back together but she'd developed a tremor she didn't want him to see. "There's coffee in the kitchen, would you make travel mugs while I get my sweater?"

She let him carry the mugs to the SUV but still, when she was fastening her seatbelt, he saw her hands shake and he gave her a warm smile. "Nothing to be nervous about now. What's done is done. Today we just get the verdict." But she saw he had a slight nervous tick at the corner of his eye, as well.

At eight thirty she and Booth were waiting in Dr. Ashbacher's office. Her blood had been drawn and all that was left was the waiting. After a few excruciating minutes Dr. Ashbacher breezed in and sat down behind his huge mahogany desk. "Dr. Brennan, Mr. Booth, congratulations. You're pregnant."

Booth's face split into a huge grin and he turned to Brennan. She was dumbstruck. She'd not let herself believe she would be pregnant so she hadn't prepared for that answer. It took twenty, maybe thirty, seconds before she'd said it enough in her head to believe it. "I'm pregnant?"

Dr. Ashbacher smiled warmly, "Yes."

She turned towards Booth and saw the absolute delight on his face. She broke into a smile. "We're pregnant."

He nodded. "We're pregnant." She leaned over to hug him but he got up out of his chair and pulled her up as well. He crushed her to him but with a gentle hand caressed the back of her head. "Told you so," he murmured into her ear.

The doctor excused himself to lend them a little privacy.

Booth pulled back from her slightly and looked into her eyes. Unsurprisingly she was crying. "We're having a baby, Bones." His voice was a whisper and held a note of awe. They were both overcome with emotion and so, so relieved. She was smiling and she leaned up to kiss his cheek but he tightened the hand in her hair and directed her lips to his.

The kiss he gave her was slow and sweet, all working lips and no tongue – like those old black and white movie kisses the hero would give the heroine in the end as the screen dimmed to a pinprick. When it ended she wrapped him up in another tight embrace and spoke against his throat, "We're really pregnant. I can't believe it, I was sure—"

He cut her off by kissing her again. If he didn't kiss her he was going to tell her he loved her. Under normal circumstances it would have been the perfect time to tell her. But he wasn't allowed normal circumstances – not after his little performance on a side walk so many months ago. So he settled for working his lips over hers as long as she'd allow it.

In the end he pulled back first afraid he'd heat the kiss in a way neither of them was ready for if he didn't. But he held her to him and ran his hands over and across her back and she seemed content to stay there. "Thank you, Booth," she finally said when the silence became almost too much to bear.

"You don't have to thank me."

"Well," she said with a smile, "I couldn't have done it without you."

He grinned at her. "So, who are you going to spill the beans to first?"

"Spill the...oh, who am I going to tell?" He nodded. "No one."

"Uh, it's going to become pretty obvious..."

"No, obviously I'll have to tell people. But not yet. You're not supposed to tell people until the second trimester. In case of miscarriage."

He groaned. "Fine, fine. We'll wait. How long until we can start telling people?"

"In eight weeks."

He guffawed. "There's no way you can go eight more weeks without people finding out."

"What do you mean," she asked indignantly.

"You've been crazy with the mood swings. Those aren't going away, you know. And there are going to be other symptoms. And they're only going to get more noticeable. Angela is so going to sniff you out."

"I can be discreet."

"Yeah, okay." He slung an arm around her shoulders and herded her toward the exit. "We'll see about that."

The rest of the week she wore a Mona Lisa smile – when she wasn't completely losing her temper. By Friday Hodgins had sworn to steer clear of her until whatever alien life form had taken over her body chose to release her. If he only knew, Booth thought when he overheard Hodgins tantrum.

Angela kept giving Brennan squirrely glances. The sensitive woman knew something was up she just couldn't quite figure out what it was. She was determined to get to the bottom of it though, as she told Brennan in no uncertain terms several times over the course of the week.

Cam gave Booth one knowing smile Friday evening as they were all closing up shop. He wondered what she thought she knew. She couldn't possibly be right, he figured. As a matter of fact no one had even said "baby" in regards to Booth or Brennan since he'd been in the hospital. No, she couldn't know. Could she?

No, there's no way Brennan would be able to keep her secret for eight more weeks.


	8. Week 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Woo-hoo, I did it! This one was a bruiser to write. And you'll notice it's more than twice the length of any chapter I've posted before...for this story or Slip and Fall. Told you there was no way to tell whether or not a chapter would be long. Hopefully you enjoy this one!
> 
> Re-uploaded May 27, 2010 (sorry if you got alerted for it...) - FF has been killing section breaks. Several readers noticed they were now missing an it impeded the flow of the story so I'm going back through to fix the missing breaks. Sorry if readers end up with a stack of alerts for old chapters! ~A

" _The pregnancy hormone hCG is increasing the blood flow to your pelvic area (that's good news if you're up for having sex)."_

She was pregnant. Seven weeks, she realized, when she woke on Tuesday. She knew the science of it but it still astounded her. Four weeks ago she was inseminated yet that morning she was really and truly seven weeks pregnant. _Pregnant._ Only thirty three weeks from that moment she'd get to meet her baby. Her _baby._ And Booth's. She didn't have to try very hard to recall the look on Booth's face when they found out.

As she lay in bed she thought back over the last few weeks – the fear, the doubt, followed by intense elation. She was incredibly happy. So happy, in fact, she felt the need to temper the emotion though she couldn't quite put her finger on why. She was happily lost in baby thoughts when, simultaneously, her cell phone rang and there was a thumping at her front door.

She hauled herself out of bed and slipped her robe over her silky pajamas. As she walked out into the hallway to answer the door she answered the phone without looking at the display. "Brennan."

"Come on, answer the door already."

She smiled slightly and hung up the phone. When she pulled the door open, Booth was juggling two steaming cups, his cell phone and a case file. His foot was poised to thump her door again. "Good morning," she said with a slight smirk.

"Morning, Bones." He let her relieve him of the cups and followed her into the apartment.

She wandered into the living room and settled herself on the couch. She took a quick glance at the clock. It was only a quarter past six. She took the plastic lid off her paper cup and inhaled the herbal tea's steam. "You're here early."

"We've got a case."

"We've had a case." She took a sip of her tea and arched an eyebrow at him as he sat down on the other end of the couch. He looked good. _Really_ good. Better than he usually did and he usually looked pretty…what's a word Angela would use? Edible?

"We've got another one." He sipped his coffee and she looked at it longingly. "Eyes on your own cup. You're off caffeine."

She fixed her mouth into a bit of a pout and noted, with curiosity, the odd look in his eyes. She wasn't sure she'd seen that particular look before. "Herbal tea is fine," she said with a hint of superiority. She really did want the coffee. And was that smell his cologne? How had she never noticed that cologne before? She had a flash of herself rolling around in him the way animals would roll around in something they'd discovered in a field. "So," she said brightly and shaking her head just a little, "new case?"

"Yep, and just the kind you like. The body is nothing but bones."

"And we're going to the crime scene this morning?"

"Local uniforms are holding the scene for us."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"All right," she got up and went to her bedroom but continued talking. Did she expect him to follow? She was still talking, though, so he did follow. When he got to her door she'd pushed it most of the way closed but he could hear her just fine through the crack in the door. "…so it would probably be best if we had Hodgins meet us there."

"Sorry, Bones, I missed part of that." She walked by the crack in the door and he caught a flash of nothing but skin. His eyebrows shot toward his hairline. First she answered the door in that…whatever it was. All silky, a brief top and some little shorts that showed her miles of long legs. Then there was that pretty, feminine flowing robe. He wasn't a man who knew a lot about female accoutrements, but he could certainly appreciate that little ensemble. And then that tantalizing, if fleeting glimpse of her bare skin… Well, he was feeling a little more action in his nether regions than he'd prefer with twelve to fifteen hours of Bones' company looming on the horizon.

"I said," she called from what sounded like it must have been her closet, "that if the body is completely skeletal, it would probably be best if we had Hodgins meet us there to gather particulates evidence."

"Hodgins has refused to be alone with you until the mood swings stop."

She popped into his line of vision and pulled the door open a little further. She was dressed in slacks and had a bra on but she just held her blouse in front of her to preserve her modesty. "I'm still his superior. He'll go where I tell him to."

"Ooh," he said with grin when she disappeared from his line of sight, "feisty."

"Besides," she called, "he won't be alone with me." She reappeared, finally fully dressed and he was able to take full breath. "You'll be there." She pulled the door the rest of the way open then sat down on the edge of her bed to put on her shoes. The morning had felt strangely intimate to him and standing there, leaning against her bedroom doorjamb and watching her finish dressing, created a tightening in his chest he wasn't completely sure he could identify.

"And I mean really, it's not like I've been that bad." When he didn't respond she looked up at him and saw him trying to contain laughter. "What?"

"There have been a couple of times that if you weren't carrying my baby I'd have put you out on the side of the road." His words were harsh but his tone was light.

She smiled along with him. "Okay, so perhaps I've been moodier than usual."

He scoffed, "perhaps?"

She threw a pair of socks at him, "Fine. I've been a completely unbearable."

"I'll bear it, baby," he said with a wink and waved her ahead of him into the hall.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Wednesday night over dinner something that had been flitting around in her brain finally tripped out of her mouth. "You've never put it that way before."

"Huh?"

She'd thrown him for a loop and she realized she'd had the rest of the conversation in her head. And while he was good he wasn't _mind-reading-good_. "Yesterday you said I was carrying your baby. You hadn't put it that way before."

He pointed his fork at her. "You are carrying my baby."

"Well, yes, but that sounds...intimate...in a strange sort of way."

"It is intimate, when you think about it, though, isn't it? Creating life with someone, well, that's an intimate act. Even if we didn't do it in the traditionally intimate way."

Just the thought of the traditional way brought color to her cheeks. She felt the pleasant warming of the blush as it spread across her cheeks and down her neck. Her breathing became shallow and slightly labored. She pictured them in bed together, him hovering above her, her head thrown back in ecstasy as he pushed deeply into her one last time before holding himself taut and spilling into her.

"Bones?" He snapped in front of her face. "Bones, are you okay?" He pushed his glass of water towards her. "Take a drink. Why do your eyes look glassy?"

"Hmm? What?" She shook her head to dispel the images. "Sorry. Yes," she finally conceded, "it is intimate, I guess. I just hadn't thought of it that way – carrying your baby. Though that is exactly what I'm doing."

She watched with interest as his eyes darkened. "I know. And trust me, I've thought of it _exactly_ that way."

"I'm not sure what that means."

"It's just," he sighed, "there's this thing...that happens with guys when their women are pregnant. It makes you feel...superhuman...almost."

"Their women," she asked with a smirk. "Because I'm carrying your child, that's what I am to you now? Your woman?"

He chocked on the bite he was swallowing and coughed. "No. That's not what I mean." She arched an eyebrow at him. "Not exactly, anyway," he mumbled, "but it's hard not to think of you in that way...a little now, you know?" He looked down at her still-flat belly and remarked with awe, "That's _my kid_ in there, Bones."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

She blindsided him in the car on Thursday. "Why did you kiss me in Dr. Ashbacher's office?"

"In my defense, you kissed me back."

"Is this a situation in which you feel the need to defend yourself?"

"What? No!" He sighed, "I don't know, Bones, we just found out we were finally pregnant. It seemed like the thing to do."

"I suppose you're right. You would have kissed me if I was your wife, right?"

"Yeah, I would have kissed you if you were my wife. But that's not the point."

"Well, what is the point?"

"I was happy. You were happy. We were both excited. This has absolutely nothing to do with our partnership and a hug just didn't seem like enough to convey how I felt. I know we originally did this for you, but I'm thrilled, Bones. I'm absolutely over the moon. And I know we're not together. I know you don't have any romantic interest in me at all but I _feel_ things for you because you're about to be the mother of one of my children."

"I wouldn't say I didn't have _any_ romantic feelings toward you."

He looked over at her wishing desperately for a red light. "What?"

"Well, I'm not sure I'd call the feelings "romantic". But I've definitely been attracted to you. More so lately than normal."

"You have a _normal_ level of attraction to me?"

"Of course," she said as if there weren't any reason that would be news.

"But more lately than normal?" Had he just entered the Twilight Zone?

"Yes. I can't really explain it. I find it distracting."

"You and me both," he muttered under his breath.

She went on, "From what I understand this is normal for women at this stage of pregnancy. If I were sexually active I'd likely see an increase in my desire for sexual activity. But since I'm currently _not_ sexually active it makes sense I'd be imprinting those desires onto the closest male who was, biologically, a good possible partner. And I'm sure you're more attractive to me than usual because the hormones that are responsible for the perpetuation of the species are identifying you as the father of my offspring."

"So you're hot for me because I knocked you up?" He grinned at her. "You know we sure do go about some things ass-backwards."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

She was so embarrassed. After a knock-down-drag-out fight with Hodgins, in which even she would admit she bordered slightly on evil, she'd burst into tears. He'd been making snide comments since Tuesday's foray into the field to collect evidence. She knew she'd been cranky lately. _Everyone_ brought it to her attention at _every_ possible moment. Finally, Thursday afternoon, it got to be too much. She lit into him with a fire even she didn't know she had.

Angela watched with mouth agape as her best friend and ex-boyfriend appeared ready to take the altercation to blows. Cam and Booth finally stepped in between the entomologist and the anthropologist just as Hodgins slung a very undignified, "God, you're being such a _bitch_ lately," in her direction.

Then she broke down. She'd never really been one to cry, let alone in front of her subordinates. But there she stood, tears rolling down her cheeks and shoulders heaving from sobs.

"Hey," Booth had shouted as he rubbed soothing circles on her back, "simmer the fuck down, okay man?"

Hodgins had looked at Booth with the same incredulity she'd thought she looked at him with.

"He's not exactly out of line, Booth," Cam had said in her most placating of voices. "Dr. Brennan has been more...volatile...than usual lately."

As Brennan cried, and Booth continued to rub her back soothingly, Hodgins finally said, "Look, Dr. B, I'm sorry. But you've got to get off my back. I'm not sure what I did to piss you off, but either tell me what's going on or back the hell off."

That only served to make her cry harder and she escaped the platform to her office. She'd wanted Booth to follow her. She had the strangest urge to fling herself into his arms – it was an urge that both thrilled and disgusted her. But Booth never did appear in her office and when she asked after him a couple hours later she was told he and Hodgins had gone out for a beer.

Traitor.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"Dude, Dr. Brennan's gone off the Reservation." Booth took a long pull off his beer. The whole situation between Hodgins and Bones had gone on too long. He wasn't sure Hodgins' and Brennan's professional relationship could take much more of her mood swings.

"There's a good explanation, I promise. I know it sucks that I'm asking you, but could you just try to be a little more patient with her? It's going to pass. And I'll talk to her about it. Maybe get her to work on thinking a little more before she speaks. Or reacts."

Hodgins raised his eyebrows, "You'll talk to her? What, is she not being unbearable to you?"

Booth shook his head, "No. I mean she goes off on me too, yeah, but I know why and I think that makes it easier."

"Care to share with the rest of the class, then, Man?"

"I've been sworn to secrecy."

"Okay, well swear me to secrecy too and then we can sort all this out before I'm seriously tempted to either quit or put a hit out on her."

Booth spun his bottle on the bar. He _could_ tell Hodgins – after everything she'd put him through he sort of deserved to know. The man could keep a secret, right? And it would be nice to have someone to talk to about everything. "Look, if I tell you, you _really_ can't tell a soul. I mean she'd kill me. And never forgive me. And it's sort of important that I'm alive and she and I are speaking to each other."

Hodgins' eyes narrowed. "You guys didn't secretly get married or anything did you?"

"Well, I think it would fall under the _anything_ category." He took a deep breath, "She's pregnant."

"Holy fuck."

"You're not kidding."

"And it's _yours_?"

"Why is that so hard to believe?"

"I'm just thinking if you two had been getting laid regularly..."

"She was artificially inseminated."

"Wow. Really?"

"Yeah."

"She's pregnant," Hodgins said with a little bit of wonder. "How far along?"

"A little over seven weeks. We're not supposed to tell anybody until she's in her second trimester. She's afraid she's going to lose the baby."

"That's highly unlikely."

"It's likely enough that she doesn't want to tell anybody. So I'm serious. You tell anyone and I'll break your knees."

Hodgins raised his hands in surrender, "Not telling a soul, Dude, your secret's safe with me." He grinned, "Angela's going to shit, you know that, right?"

Booth grinned too. "Yeah."

"And you two aren't, you know, together now?"

Booth shook his head. "No, but I'm optimistic."

"Really?"

Booth wasn't sure if Hodgins was questioning his desire for a relationship with Brennan or the fact he had something to be optimistic about. He chose to address the later since it had fewer, he believed, implications. "She gave me this whole speech on being attracted to me because her hormones are identifying me as the father of her child. I think she's just afraid to admit that she feels some sort of emotional attachment to me because we're having a baby."

Hodgins laughed. "I wouldn't put all your eggs in the attachment basket yet. She's right. Her body is producing hormones that will make her more favorable to you. It's nature's way of making sure she wants to keep you around. And that's nature's way of making sure the baby is cared for."

Booth leaned back in his chair. "You think that's all it is? Biology?"

"I don't think there's anything between the two of you that's simple. I don't think anything can be boiled down to just one factor." Hodgins motioned to the bartender for another round. "But you know what? Congratulations."

Booth's baby smile spread across his face. "Thanks."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Booth showed up that night with dinner and she was, by then, feeling hurt. She knew it was irrational but he was supposed to be on her side, right? Her head felt heavy from the tears she hadn't been able to stem since she'd returned home. She'd barely held it together the rest of the afternoon at the Jeffersonian and as soon as she walked through her front door they'd started again and had continued unabated. He took one look at her and gathered her up into his arms just like she'd been wishing for earlier.

He still smelled _so good_ and she couldn't resist the urge to nuzzle into the warm skin of his neck just above the collar of his dress shirt. He stiffened against her but didn't release her and whispered, "shh, shh," into her hair.

"You left today." Her voice sounded girlish and frightened even to her ears and she hated herself for it. But she was feeling things she couldn't ever recall having felt before.

"I thought it might be good if I smoothed things over with Hodgins."

He was making distracting patterns on her back with his large, warm hands. "But you just _left_ me there. Am I that awful now, Booth, that even you don't want to be around me?"

He sighed and pulled her even tighter into him. "Hey now, you know I want to be with you. Whenever I can. No matter how evil you get."

She could feel him smile against her temple. She nuzzled into him again, "Have you always smelled this good?"

"And the award for non sequitur of the day goes to..."

She ran her hands across his scapulas and down the pliant muscles of his back, to his waist and then back up across his abdomen to the hard muscles of his chest. Her touch was light but sure and he groaned from the back of his throat. "Bones, you've got to stop that."

"I don't want to stop. I can't help it, Booth. I want you."

He pulled back from her slightly but left his arms curled around her despite the deep frown on his face. "Okay, that's enough. I know whatever's going on with you is," he spit the word, " _biological_ , but even you can't mess with me like that."

"I'm not messing with you."

"You know how I feel about sex."

"Love is just chemical. Why can't you see that?"

"Why can't you see that it's not just chemical? Not for me. Not for most of the people on the planet. It should mean something when we make love, Bones."

"When?" Surely he meant "if".

He cleared his throat. "If. It should mean something _if_ we made love."

"But what I'm feeling doesn't have anything to do with love. My body wants sexual release."

He pushed her the rest of the way out of his arms. "Then find a little release on your own, Bones. I'm not a sex toy."

She'd offended him and she hadn't meant to. She adopted a conciliatory tone. "I didn't mean to imply you were."

"I know you don't really get it. I know you don't understand where I'm coming from. But I want you to try. You're coming on to me and you don't understand what it's doing to me."

"I understand you're aroused." She'd felt the stirring of his erection before when he held her. His body was interested even if his mind wasn't. And most men didn't pay nearly as much regard to their minds as they did their bodies.

" _That's_ biological, Bones. You can't touch me like that and not expect me to react."

"I did expect you to react."

"Then you were playing with me. And I'm not going to let you do that. Dinner's in the bag. I'll see you tomorrow." He left and she was filled with a confusing mixture of sadness and anger.

Friday morning when she woke her body was thrumming with the need for release. She'd dreamed about him all night. He'd finally relented and allowed her the opportunity to find release but it went on and on and she was never able to just _get there_.

She dressed for work and was still feeling frustrated. Made her decaf coffee and was still frustrated. Drove to work and was frustrated. Worked all day examining the skeleton they'd recovered the previous day and was still frustrated. She finally excused herself to her office where she worked on her book and wrote a spectacular love scene she'd have to edit down before she ever submitted and found herself even more frustrated.

"Hey, Bones," she heard from her doorway but the voice was much younger than she normally associated with that greeting.

"Parker!"

"Dad says to tell you we're going to dinner and to make sure you got your coat. Am I supposed to help you put it on?" He asked with such sincerity she had to laugh. "I saw that in a movie Mom and I watched."

"Maybe if we were closer to the same height. But I appreciate the offer."

"Okay. Well, come on. Dad's waiting out by a skeleton. And I'm _really_ hungry."

She shut down her computer and slipped into her coat. "Well I'm pretty hungry, too, so let's get your dad and go to dinner."

Parker slipped his small warm hand into hers and pulled her towards the platform where Booth was talking with Hodgins and Cam. "I've got her, Dad, let's go!" The young boy's voice rang out through the work area.

Booth said his goodnights and joined Parker and Brennan at the bottom of the stairs. "Ready for dinner," he asked as he fixed the collar of her jacket where it was turned under.

"Yes," she said with a nod. She was surprised he seemed to not have any lingering anger from the previous night's disagreement. "Booth, are we—"

He cut her off with a wink, "All right, Park, what's for dinner?" And the three of them left the Jeffersonian.

Sunday Parker asked her to accompany them when Booth took him back to Rebecca's. Booth looked slightly panicked but she didn't want to turn the child down. Parker chattered all the way from Booth's to Rebecca's as if attempting to get in as much conversation as possible before his two week hiatus from his father.

Booth and Brennan walked Parker to the door. When Rebecca answered she was dressed in old clothes that were smeared with clay. Parker hugged his father and Brennan goodbye and disappeared into the house saying something about an exbox, she wasn't sure what that was.

She stood there politely, if a little uncomfortably, while Booth and Rebecca exchanged pleasantries. Soon, however, the smell of the clay began to overwhelm her.

"Dr. Brennan, are you okay? You're looking a little green." Rebecca sounded concerned.

Hot saliva started to pool in her mouth and she knew she was only moments away from vomiting. "Could I use your bathroom, please?" She pressed a hand low on her belly.

Rebecca nodded and pointed to her left, "Down the hall, second door on the left."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

He was worried. He kept shifting his glance from Rebecca who was making idle conversation and the bathroom door where he could hear Brennan's retching.

"Seeley, is Dr. Brennan pregnant?"

Well, she certainly didn't pull any punches, did she? "What? Why do you ask?"

"Because I remember that nausea when I was pregnant. It's instantaneous."

He sighed, "Look, I'm not supposed to say anything to anybody about this."

A small smile played around the corners of her mouth. "My lips are sealed."

"Thanks."

"So," she whispered, just as the bathroom door opened, "who's the father?"

He gracefully evaded and visibly, he was sure, relaxed when Brennan reappeared. "You okay," he asked quietly. She nodded but still looked a little green around the gills. Very shortly thereafter they said their goodnights to Rebecca and got back in his SUV to head back to her place.

"Morning sickness, huh?"

"There's no "morning" about it," she said dismally. "I'm fighting low-grade nausea all the time. Usually I can keep myself from vomiting. It was the smell of the clay, I believe." She fiddled with a tin of mints he'd handed her as soon as they got in the car. "Do you think Rebecca suspects?"

He shook his head as convincingly as possible. "Nah. And even if she did I don't think she'd think it was mine."

Brennan frowned. "No, I don't suppose she would. I'm really not your type, am I?"

"What?" She couldn't be serious, could she? "What do you mean, "my type"? I don't have a type."

"Yes, you do. There are many physical similarities between Rebecca, Tessa and Agent Perotta."

"Hey, I've never had a relationship with Perotta. And, if you think I have a type, how do you explain Cam?"

"You were _interested_ in Perotta," she insisted. "And I can't explain Cam."

He detected a note of something in her voice he'd normally call jealousy but they'd made it through the entire weekend without fighting and without him sending her into another fit of tears. He chose to let it go. "I don't have a type," he said again. "And if I did, Bones, you can be sure you'd be it."

On Monday she apparently decided it would be best to give him a permanent case of blue balls. In the morning when he'd picked her up she was short with him and finally told him it was because she was tired. She'd been _dreaming_ about him. She'd started to describe her dream in detail when he'd had to cut her off for both their safety. The interstate was no place for him to lose his concentration.

And she'd touched him _all day long_. And kept telling him how good he smelled. He'd changed clothes between dropping her at the Jeffersonian before lunch and picking her up again for lunch. He'd decided _against_ putting on cologne. He couldn't take her advances. And she looked good. She'd worn a button down blouse and hadn't buttoned it up as high as she usually did. And every time she twisted _just a little bit_ he could see the swell of her breasts.

Blue balls. All damn day. By the time he'd made it home that night he'd just about reached his breaking point. In his bedroom, in his nightstand, he kept a couple magazines. They were carefully hidden beneath magazines Parker wouldn't find at all interesting, just in case he went snooping. He kept a bottle of Astroglide way in the back of the same drawer.

He didn't resort to outside-the-shower masturbation very often. Part of his brain kept yelling at him, asking why he was masturbating at all when there was a beautiful woman who'd been practically throwing herself at him all week. He groaned with self-recrimination. Not going there, he thought. As a matter of fact, he thought as he pulled the magazines out of the drawer, he wasn't even going to think about her. It was a means to and end. He certainly didn't need to make it worse by picturing her body – the one that held his baby – all curvaceous and soft and inviting looking. Or by picturing her beautiful and expressive eyes. Or her incredibly hot mouth – the one that could turn him on with words and then, in the next breath, infuriate the hell out him. Damn it, but he was hard.

He popped buckle of his belt and pushed the button of his slacks through its hole. With one hand he flipped through the magazine until he found a particularly nice picture while the other hand busily pushed yards of material out of his way to gather around his ankles. He kicked the pants and boxers away from him until his feet were free and he sat down on the bed. He flicked the top of the little bottle of lubricant so it opened and poured a workable amount into his right hand. He tossed the bottle back into its drawer as he closed his fist around his aching cock.

Damn but that felt good. His relief was almost instantaneous. Finally, the right kind of pressure in his groin. The kind that would bring relief. He wondered if that was how Bones had felt all week. Like she had blue balls. And itch she couldn't scratch by herself. Earlier that day she'd started to tell him about trying to masturbate and he'd cut her off, harshly. He couldn't listen to that. But in the privacy of his bedroom he remembered the sound of her voice as she'd said, "I tried to pleasure myself but I just couldn't find the release I needed."

He'd give her the release she needed, he thought as he stroked his length. The lube was warm and sticky from the friction he was creating. He wondered what she'd feel like as he pumped into her. Would she be as tight as his fist? Tighter? He squeezed himself harder and wondered if that's what it would feel like to be deep inside her. Would she ripple around him in those moments before she came?

He stroked himself faster. His breaths sounded loud and harsh bouncing off his bedroom walls. He thought about her in that lab coat that molded itself around her hips. He loved how she widened there, thought about what she'd look like bent over, grasping her ankles. If her ass would be as perfectly heart-shaped as he thought it would be. Whether or not she'd glisten, wetly, from that slit right between her legs.

He groaned. The picture. Concentrate on the picture. He pried his eyes open unsure of when he'd closed them and focused on the beautiful girl in the picture. She was sitting in the middle of a dining room table dressed with silver and crystal. There was blood-red wine in two glasses. She was sitting up with her knees bent and her legs as far apart as they'd go. With one hand she caressed a beautifully surgically enhanced breast and the other hand dipped between her legs hinting at what she was doing but not obstructing the view at all.

He concentrated on the picture and stroked himself faster. He was leaking natural lubricant at that point and he thought the amount was almost obscene. He kept his eyes trained on the picture but the woman's blond hair turned auburn and her deep brown eyes turned crystalline blue. Her hips flared sweetly and the tiny patch of dark brown hair at the apex of her thighs lightened a few shades until the woman in the picture was definitely Temperance Brennan. He groaned again as he came, spilling over his hand and down onto the bed sheets. He relaxed back onto the bed then, comfortable and sated for the first time, really, all week. But angry, too, that even with the best of intentions he couldn't keep her out of his head when he jerked off. He should be better at that after years as her partner.

But he thought about and realized it had been well over a year since he'd fantasized about anything _but_ her when he masturbated. And he was doing that with much more frequency than he had since he was a teenager. He needed to get a grip and he needed to get it fast. He'd been falling for her for a while. She'd agreed to let him properly father her child but she'd never agreed to love him. And that meant he couldn't, _wouldn't_ , allow himself to sleep with her.

And all the fantasies in the world weren't going to fulfill the need he was discovering he had for her. They wouldn't make it better. They wouldn't help him find relief. No, they could only make it worse. Because he was sure, when he saw her the next day, the first image he'd have of her would be amidst silver and crystal on a dining room table, legs splayed open invitingly.

Fuck. He couldn't possibly be getting hard again already, could he?


	9. Week 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: This one isn't nearly so long as the last, but it's still longer than the beginning chapters. It's shorter because I'd said everything I needed to say in this one. There are some, I believe, truly spectacular moments that may very well make up for the fact this chapter lacks a little length.
> 
> Many thanks to all who've reviewed and added this story to their alerts list. The extremely positive response and intense interest in the story is completely overwhelming. Thanks everyone!

" _You might find yourself light-headed these days."_

Tuesday morning as she made her mad dash toward the bathroom, to throw up the nothing in her stomach the baby seemed to object to, she found herself lightheaded. It didn't pass once her stomach dispelled its contents and it didn't dissipate after she forced down two pieces of dry toast. Peppermint tea didn't help either. She ate a few slices of apple hoping the sugar would help but just ended up throwing up again. Between the nausea that wouldn't let her try to cure the lightheadedness and the lightheadedness that made her feel like she'd been experimenting with illegal drugs, she finally decided she'd be better off not attempting to drive.

She called Booth and he offered to drive her in to the Jeffersonian after asking her no fewer than five times if she didn't think she'd be better off taking a sick day. No, she'd said, she was sure the symptoms would pass. And she really thought they would. The book said her symptoms were normal. What could she do but just push through? Besides, taking sick days when she was just eight weeks pregnant didn't bode well for the rest of the pregnancy.

When Booth arrived he looked concerned and as if he was going to forcibly restrain her in her home. "I'm pregnant, Booth, not an invalid," she'd finally huffed when he hovered and tried, yet again, to convince her to spend the day at home in bed. "And I'm not even _that_ pregnant yet."

"I don't think there are degrees of pregnancy, Bones. Either you are or you aren't."

"I'm certain I'll still think there are degrees of pregnancy when I'm in my third trimester."

"What are you going to do if this keeps up? Ask me to drive you to work everyday? We spend a lot of time together but I think the squints are going to start to notice. Then what?"

"Well, in six weeks I'll tell them."

"You don't think they'll notice six weeks of me driving you everywhere you go?"

"I don't think the symptoms are going to prevent me from driving for the next six weeks. Besides," she said standing up, "I'm feeling better already." She took a step forward and found she still had that fuzzy feeling in her head. "But since you're here you should drive anyway." She sat back down.

He narrowed his eyes and pointed at her. "You're still lightheaded, aren't you?"

"Just a little," she confessed at the concerned look on his face. "I'm sure I'd feel better if I had something to eat."

"Why didn't you eat breakfast," he asked with an accusatory tone.

"I _tried_. I had toast and an apple."

"But you threw it back up," he deduced.

"Yes."

"Okay. I'll take you to work. You'll _stay_ at work – behind a desk, if possible – and I'll come back and we'll go to lunch. Maybe by then you'll be able to eat."

"Really, Booth, aside from the lightheadedness and nausea, I feel fine."

He smiled at her, "Yeah, Bones, you sound like you're doing great."

"Well side effects are to be expected."

"Side effects," he said with amusement. "You make it sound like you're undergoing experimental treatment." He sat down next to her on the couch. "So aside from generally feeling like crap what do you think of being pregnant."

She considered his question. "Aside from the symptoms you already know about, I can't really tell. It's too early to show."

He looked at her shyly, she wasn't sure it was a look she'd ever seen on him before, "Can I see?"

"See what?" She thought about it. "Oh, well, like I said, I'm not showing yet. There's nothing to see."

He cleared his throat. "But you will start to show, at some point, right? And I won't be able to tell as soon as you."

"You have no basis of comparison," she said with amusement. "Well, okay, I suppose." She stood up and looked around her empty apartment. She wasn't sure who or what she expected to see but what she was about to do felt exceptionally private and a little forbidden. She unbuttoned her blouse from the bottom until the only button fastened was the one right below her breasts. He reached out and drew the halves of her shirt apart across her ribs and reverently studied the smooth, flat surface of her belly.

"I can't believe our baby is actually in there."

She chuckled, a little uncomfortable under his studied gaze. "It is sort of hard to believe, isn't it?" He released the left side of her shirt and the pads of his right fingers hovered just below her belly button. "It's okay," her voice came out in a whisper, "you can touch, if you like."

His touch was light where his fingers rested on the soft skin she'd bared to him. He was warm and he trembled slightly. His eyes were locked on her stomach as if he could will himself to see inside her.

"He's the size of a large raspberry now," she finally said.

The corner of Booth's mouth quirked up. "He?"

"Or she." She sighed when he raised an eyebrow. "It's just a pronoun, Booth."

He cocked his head and asked her, "Do you want a boy?"

"I don't have a preference yet." It felt strange to be having a conversation with him while his fingers were still pressed against her belly. She dropped her hand next to his and pressed.

"Hey! Easy there, you don't want to hurt her."

"Her?" she asked with a smirk. "And I'm not hurting _him_." She found what she was looking for and grasped his wrist drawing his hand down and a little to her right. "Press down, right there."

He did and his eyes rounded into surprised circles. "Wow. Is that the baby?"

She nodded with a little smile, "Yes." Their eyes met and twinkled at one another. Then, as if they both realized where his hand was – she'd had to push the waistband of her pants down to where the elastic of her underwear rested to find the knotty evidence of his child inside her – they both blushed slightly and dropped their hands. She hurriedly buttoned her blouse and straightened the waistband of her slacks.

By the time he'd picked her up for lunch the lightheadedness had passed. Halfway through the morning she'd thought herself able to keep something down and had procured a box of animal crackers out of the vending machine in the third floor break room.

"How are you feeling?" he asked quietly from the door of her office.

She smiled at him, "Much better, thank you."

He pointed at the box of animal crackers on her desk, "The baby likes animal crackers?"

"Apparently more than he likes toast and apples."

" _She's_ got her daddy's taste buds then."

Brennan had been collecting her purse and jacket but she stopped in her tracks.

"What?" He took a slightly panicked few steps into the room. "Are you okay?"

She tilted her head to the side, "That's the first time you've said that."

He grinned. "Are you going point out the first time I say everything?"

"Of course not," she scoffed. "But I hadn't yet thought about us as parents. Not really, anyway. I'd been so concerned with getting pregnant I hadn't even though about being _"mommy"_ and _"daddy"._ She looked out into the hall behind him to ensure they were alone before she let a huge smile crack across her face and she whispered, "We're having a baby, Booth."

He smiled right back at her, "Yeah, we are."

Later that evening she wobbled on her heels standing out in front of her building talking to him through the rolled down passenger window of the SUV. Before she knew what was happening he'd parked and joined her, a hand on her elbow to keep her steady.

"You just ate. Are you lightheaded again?"

She nodded. "It's not just low blood sugar, though that could contribute. It has to do with my circulatory system adjusting to the baby."

"Well come on, let's get you upstairs. Maybe it'll help if you lie down for a while."

She made it the rest of the way up to her apartment without incident but in all fairness Booth had never released her from his steadying grasp. Once inside she'd changed into cotton drawstring pants and a t-shirt he'd commented looked very, very familiar. He'd settled her on the couch with a glass of ginger ale to fight the nausea that crept up on their way home from dinner at the diner.

He snatched the television remote from her with a, "No way. There's a basketball game on. We're not watching some documentary on the mating habits of Norwegian Grasshoppers."

"I don't think there's a variety of a grasshopper called "Norwegian", Booth."

"Not the point, Bones."

"Fine," she huffed good-naturedly, "we'll watch your damn ballgame."

She woke up sometime around three to find he'd covered her with the quilt from the foot of her bed and had, himself, fallen asleep in a wingback chair. She got up, shook him awake enough to move to the couch and went off to bed.

Her lightheadedness never abated and her morning sickness grew worse. Wednesday morning Booth had awoken her with a cup of hot herbal tea, moved like lightening when she sprinted to the bathroom to toss her cookies, then teased her incessantly with the coffee he made in her beautiful stainless-steel pot. He'd driven again that day and they'd detoured by his apartment so he could shower and dress.

Thursday started the same way Wednesday had. At a crime scene that evening, just as the sun started to dip below the horizon, a wave of dizziness hit her when she was four rungs up an eight foot ladder examining remains where they were visible through a hole in the drywall of a terribly expensive home. Booth was across the room talking with an evidence technician when she felt herself start to fall off the ladder. A surprised, "oh!" escaped her and before she'd fallen he'd caught her in his arm with an undignified "oof!"

"Jesus, Bones, are you okay?"

He stood her back up on her feet but she was still dizzy and she reached out to grasp is bicep to keep herself upright. "I'm really shaky, Booth. I think I should sit down."

He'd led her to a chair and crouched down in front of her. His hands circled her wrists and his thumbs traced comforting circles on the sensitive inner skin. She suspected he was checking her pulse but she didn't say anything.

She'd lost her footing later that night on the platform at the Jeffersonian and that time, when he caught her, it was under the watchful eyes of Cam and Angela.

"Bren," Angela had exclaimed, "are you okay?"

She was really getting tired of people asking her that. But she nodded, shot Booth a grateful glance and went back to work, doing her best to cover the fact she was still alarmingly lightheaded.

At eleven Booth had appeared at her elbow, "Come on, it's time to go home."

"I have far too much work to do to leave now," she tried to dismiss him. But ultimately the look he gave her convinced her there was no room for argument and she hung up her lab coat.

He'd settled her into bed almost the moment they'd walked through the door. He'd barely left her alone long enough to change into appropriate sleepwear. "I'm staying in the spare room tonight," he said and she hadn't the heart to fight him. In truth she was slightly worried about her new inability to remain upright.

Friday after she'd had to find a place to sit while cataloguing evidence Cam had approached her. "Dr. Brennan, have you been feeling all right?"

Brennan considered her. She was a doctor. Surely she'd recognize the symptoms. And she figured then she'd brought on all the bad luck she could because as she opened her mouth to speak she realized she was going to be sick. She made it to the plastic waste bin beneath the computer work station before she lost her composure but surely, she thought as she heaved, a woman as astute as Dr. Saroyan would be able to put two and two together when it came to the symptoms she was displaying.

As luck would have it Booth walked in as she was still bent over the trash can. Cam stood next to her with a look of concern on her face. He crouched down next to her and gathered her hair into a ponytail and the nape of her neck and rubbed circles on her back as she gagged. There was nothing left for her body to expel but still her abdominal muscles clenched with the effort.

He'd swept her out of the Jeffersonian shortly thereafter leaving Cam still shouting questions in the background. Brennan heard him promise Cam he'd call with an update on her health as soon as there was something to tell.

Later on they sat on her couch eating chicken noodle soup and oyster crackers. She balanced her now ever-present glass of ginger ale on her thigh. "I'm sitting down and I'm still lightheaded. This is a symptom I'll be glad to see abate."

"Are you sure this is normal? It seems like you're spending most of your time falling over or throwing up."

"Ugh, please," she said with a look of disgust on her face, "not while I'm finally eating."

Saturday, for the first time in years, she opted not to go to work when there was plenty of work to be done. She tried to write but staring at the computer screen just made her dizzy and the dizziness exacerbated her nausea.

She'd fallen, with a loud thump, against the wall in the laundry room in the afternoon and Booth had come running to her aid. She tried to convince him she was fine, really she was just lightheaded. She'd come to hate the word. She felt like it was a part of every conversation she'd had for days.

For the rest of the weekend he hadn't left her alone save for the few hours she'd napped Sunday afternoon and he'd run out to "take care of a few things".

He was always there, just a few feet away from her, ready to steady her at a moment's notice. And, she hated to admit, she was glad for it. It gave her some measure of comfort to know someone was there. Watching out for her. She was comforted knowing _he_ was there. He was the only one those days who wasn't giving her sidelong looks like they just couldn't figure her out.

She could tell everyone, she supposed. But what if she lost the baby? How would she possibly deal with the looks and the sympathy when all she'd really want to do would be to curl up in a ball and waste away?

It was completely irrational as the fetus in her womb wasn't yet a baby at all, but she thought of it as her baby. A baby that could be, and would be, held by its ecstatic parents. A baby that was already so much a part of her. _Her_ baby. The thing that made her, again after all this time, a part of a family.

No, she couldn't tell them just in case. It was heartbreaking to even think about losing the baby. She'd do as she'd been told by doctors and research – she'd wait to tell everyone until she'd reached the second trimester.

And in the mean time she'd just have to deal with being treated as if she were, herself, the alien life form Hodgins had intimated had taken over her body.

Halfway through Monday she realized they hadn't stopped by Booth's apartment on the way in to work. He'd showered and dressed that morning at her apartment. Had made breakfast both before and after she'd been sick. Had stopped for hot chocolate when she'd insisted she couldn't make it through the morning without it. But more to the point he'd gotten ready to go to work at her house.

She flip-flopped back and forth between oddly comforted and distressed. He was worried about her, she reasoned, he wanted to make sure he could stay as close as possible. Her dizzy spells _were_ slightly disturbing. So she wormed her way more toward oddly comforted. Until she realized all he'd have had to do what mention he'd be more comfortable staying. Sure she would have tried to talk him out of it, but these days he could thwart her with a look. So she leaned back toward distressed. In the end she decided she didn't know exactly how she felt about it. And truthfully she had bigger things to worry about. And surely he was only planning on staying a few days. Even the independent woman she'd been suppressing lately could deal with that.

Later than night she ran into him in the hall after he'd gotten out of the shower. Her mouth went dry at the sight of his chiseled chest covered in drops of water that ran in lazy rivulets to the terry cloth that was swathed around his waist.

"You know," she'd finally said once she found her voice, "you can hardly berate me for messing with you, as you put it, if you're going to insist on walking around my house looking like _that_. Just because I've refrained from saying anything doesn't mean my hormones have quieted down any."

His jaw dropped as she pushed by him to go to her bedroom. The shock served him right. She'd been doing a phenomenal job of pushing away her sexual desires for him and he had to walk around looking like that. She flopped down face first onto her bed – something she hadn't done since she was a teenager.

Surely he was only staying for a few days.


	10. Week 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Well here it is, Week 9. I'm sorry for the delay! But, expect much of the same as over the next week I prep for Nanowrimo and then, during the month of November, prove my insanity by attempting to write a 50,000 word novel in 30 days. While I'm doing that I'll continue to write Forty Weeks, it'll just take longer to produce each chapter (I'd imagine, considering I work full time, also own a business, go to school and lead a girl scout troop). So, please be patient. I promise not to forget I'm writing the story! I might be doing Nano but this is what I'm truly enjoying writing right now. (Ask the people who are hounding me for other things I'm supposed to be writing!)
> 
> And, for what it's worth, so far this is one of my favorite chapters.
> 
> ~Amara
> 
> Re-uploaded May 27, 2010 (sorry if you got alerted for it...) - FF has been killing section breaks. Several readers noticed they were now missing an it impeded the flow of the story so I'm going back through to fix the missing breaks. Sorry if readers end up with a stack of alerts for old chapters! ~A

" _Chances are you've never felt so tired in your life."_

"Bren?" A pause. "Bren, are you sleeping?" Brennan struggled through the last vestiges of sleep and pried her eyes open. Her bedroom looked like her office. Why? "Brennan, are you okay?" Angela?

"Of course, I'm fine," Brennan said automatically while still trying to figure out why her bedroom looked like her office and why Angela would be there.

"Uh-huh," Angela said sounding wholly unconvinced. "I just woke you up. At ten-thirty in the morning. At your desk. What's going _on_ with you lately?"

Finally her head cleared. Oh no, she'd fallen asleep at work. She'd been so tired lately but she'd done a good job of shaking it off and hadn't felt the need to mention it. Just another symptom. "I'm tired," she said simply and stood up.

"Clearly. But I'm not just talking about right now. You've been irritable and emotional, Cam said you threw up on the platform Friday night. You practically fainted at a crime scene," she paused when Brennan opened her mouth to interrupt but silenced her friend with a look, "yes, I heard about that." Her voice softened, "Sweetie, are you sick?"

"I said I'm fine, Angela," Brennan said brusquely. "I'm just tired. I haven't been sleeping well."

"You're not "fine", Bren. This has been going on for weeks. You seem to be getting worse, not better."

Finally Brennan warmed. "Honestly Angela, I'm fine. I promise I'm not lying to you."

"I'd believe you but Booth's been hovering more than usual these days, something's going on." She gasped and her eyes widened. "Oh my God. I get it."

Brennan panicked. "What? You get what?"

"I know what's going on with you!"

"Angela, look—" Brennan figured at that point, honesty was the best policy but her friend cut her off.

"You and Booth are sleeping together! Keeping it a secret has just been too much for you, hasn't it?" She grinned slyly, "And that's why you're so tired."

Brennan sighed with relief. "I can assure you Booth and I have not started a sexual relationship." She cursed the slight hint of annoyance in her voice.

"Yeah, because I'm totally buying that. What made you think you could keep something like that from me."

"Angela, really—"

"Not listening to you try to deny it, it's written all over you," she said as she started to back out of the room.

"But I—" Brennan called, but Angela had already left the room. She plopped back down into her chair. Well, she figured, better Angela thought she was sleeping with Booth than Angela realized she was pregnant. Brennan had really never understood the phrase "lesser of the two evils" until that very moment.

That night over dinner, as Brennan recounted the story, Booth laughed. He'd prepared a wonderful vegetarian dinner before she'd even arrived home. When she walked in he'd been dancing around her kitchen to oldies he'd turned way up on her stereo singing _Blue Moon_ at the top of his lungs. He'd looked good there, she decided, barefooted and in faded jeans and a T-Shirt that hugged his well defined body. She'd stood in the doorway wearing a huge smile as he sang, "Bom-ma-bom, a-bom-bom-a-bom, ba-ba-bom-bom-a-bomp, b-dang-a-dang-dang, b-ding-a-dong-ding, blue moon."

She was instantly transported to a long forgotten memory from her childhood: her father spinning her mother around the kitchen while he sang an equally silly old Doo-Wop song. There was a lot of laughter in that memory and she wondered where it had been hiding all those years. She laughed aloud, both at the picture Booth presented and the mental image of her father singing.

He'd turned around, surprised, with a sheepish smile on his face, "Oh, you're home."

They ate the dinner he'd prepared and cleaned the kitchen. "Why don't you go relax, take a bath or something," he'd asked once she'd put the last glass back in the cabinet.

It sounded like a wonderful idea to her and she told him so, leaving him happily ensconced on the couch with the remote control. She drew her bath and sunk into the deliciously hot water. In all her years dating she'd only cohabitated with one man. She'd never come home to find him dancing barefooted around her kitchen cooking her dinner. No, but she'd come home to find him up to his elbows in work tossing a take-out menu and the phone her direction the moment she walked through the door. She'd come home to find he'd left the country for research or a speaking engagement – not because he'd told her but because he left a note on the refrigerator door telling her what time his return flight arrived. She'd never been special to him. Never had she been important. But she knew she was to Booth. And in her kitchen that night she'd realized something: She'd never again settle for being unimportant to someone.

She must have fallen asleep in the tub because the next thing she was aware of was a none-to-gentle pounding on her bathroom door. "Bones? Answer me or I'm coming in there!"

"I'm fine," she called. "I think I fell asleep."

"You've been in there for an hour and a half."

"Then I definitely fell asleep. Give me a few minutes and I'll be out, okay?" The water had cooled around her so she stepped carefully out of the tub. On the other side of the door she could hear him muttering but his voice faded away as he evidently exited back to his post on the couch. As she dried herself she thought about him. Aside from being tired she felt pretty good for the first time in a couple of weeks. No nausea, no lightheadedness. She could tell him it was okay to go home. Not that she really wanted him to go. And he'd probably be hurt if she asked him to go, especially after everything he'd done for her that night.

He'd be going home in a few days anyway. She wasn't feeling especially amorous. Surely she could just sit and enjoy his company for a while. She smoothed lotion over her legs, across her belly and up her chest. She hissed with pain when she swiped her hands over her breasts. When had that happened? She'd not experienced any breast tenderness since she'd been pregnant. She stood in front of the mirror. Were they...? They were bigger. Noticeably bigger. Was that supposed to happen already? She turned sideways in the mirror. Yes, definitely bigger. And sore. She sighed and slipped into her favorite lavender satin pajama set. On her way through her bedroom she grabbed her robe off its hook in the closet and slipped into it, and tied the sash around her waist.

In the living room Booth was drinking coffee and watching a history channel biography on Winston Churchill. "That's going to keep you up all night," she said as she sat down next to him, liberated the cup from his hands and took a sip.

He snatched the cup back from her. "Caffeine, Bones."

"You know, you're almost maniacal in your efforts to keep me away from caffeine. One sip of coffee has less caffeine than the hot chocolate I drink."

"Well then no more hot chocolate for you, either."

She sighed, "Booth, seriously, there are conflicting reports on the effect of caffeine on a fetus."

"A baby," he said, his eyes dark. "Our baby. Who's going to have every possible advantage to grow healthy and strong."

She couldn't do anything more than swallow the lump that rose in her throat at the reverential tone of his voice. Their eyes locked and they shared a look that lasted three or four breaths longer than it would have before she'd gotten pregnant. Finally she glanced over at the television and cleared her throat. "It's Tuesday night, isn't there something on?"

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

He knew she'd been tired. She'd fallen asleep ten minutes into their primetime television viewing the night before. Which in all actuality was a good thing. She'd come out of her bedroom in another one of those slinky sleep sets but at least it was mostly hidden beneath a robe as silky as the pajamas were slinky. He'd had a tough time focusing on anything but her and once her eyes fell closed he didn't have to be as covert with his watching as he'd been trying to be.

Her body was changing in the most alluring of ways. Her belly hadn't rounded yet, though he was looking forward to being able to see the evidence of what they'd done. But in the mean time he'd settle for the gentle rounding and swelling of her breasts. She now had to strategically button her blouses but he's not sure she'd really noticed the change.

He noticed it as she slept in the car on the way to the diner for lunch on Wednesday. He'd certainly noticed as her shirt puckered slightly at the fastening at her bust teasing him with a tantalizing peek of her cream-colored skin.

When he'd woken her to go to bed the night before her robe had pulled a little loose from its sash and he'd realized how much she'd changed already. Her cleavage was deeper, more magnetic to him than it usually was. Her hormones may have been raging, trying to convince her she wanted him, but there was nothing as sexy, to him, as knowing she was carrying his child and that _he'd_ caused those fascinating changes in her. But she wouldn't understand that. And, he though again, she'd probably not noticed. It would be like her not to. Or to have mentioned it if she had.

He shook her awake when he parked outside the diner. She grumbled a little but eventually followed him inside. She rested her head in her hand at the table, eyes at half mast as she struggled to remain awake. "Are you sleeping at night?"

"Yes. But I feel like I can't get enough sleep no matter what I do. I've never been a big sleeper. I'd be lucky if I got five hours a night. But now eight's not enough."

"The book said you'd be tired."

"I know, I just hadn't expected to be _this_ tired. I almost fell asleep in a meeting this morning," she confessed.

"And you did fall asleep at your desk yesterday," he pointed out. "Should we make a bet on whether or not you'll be able to keep your secret as long as you'd like?"

"Booth," she admonished though she didn't continue.

"I know, I know." He grinned at her. "I guess we're just going to need to make it a point to make sure you're in bed earlier."

"If I go to bed any earlier than I have been I'll never be able to get anything done. I've got three chapters due next week."

"You'll get them written," he said off handedly.

"Why do you do that?" He looked up at her indignant tone with confusion. She continued, "You minimize my commitment to my responsibilities."

"That's not what I meant and you know it," he said a little sharply.

"Then you were just placating me?"

"Are you spoiling for a fight, Bones? What? You'd gone more than a few days without going off on somebody and I'm the lucky guy this time around? Well," he mused, "better me than Hodgins. I'm not sure how much more he'll take."

She looked at him aghast. "Spoiling for a fight?" She stood up sputtering, "spoiling for a fight? You think I _like_ feeling like this?"

"Bones," he sighed dramatically, "sit back down." When she just looked at him he implored, "Please?"

"Why should I," she snapped, "since all I'm doing is spoiling for a fight."

"Look, we both sort of blew that out of proportion in a hurry. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to imply your work wasn't important and that certainly wasn't how I meant what I said." She finally sat back down but she didn't look especially happy. "What I meant," he went on, "was despite the extra hours you need to be sleeping I have complete confidence you'll still get all your work done. Just tell me how I can help."

"You can't," she said belligerently, "unless you've suddenly become a writer or forensic anthropologist."

"If you're going to be this sour regularly we ought to come up with a "white-flag" word we can wave to stop the whole thing."

"What do you mean?"

"A way to stop a fight, any fight no matter what, no questions. You have been a little hard to predict lately and more on edge than usual. I'd like a way to preserve my life."

She just looked at him then finally said, "Aardvark."

"What?"

"Our white flag word. Aardvark. It's not like it would naturally come up in a conversation, right?"

He barked out a laugh, "It's not a safe-word, Bones."

"But the same principles apply, right?"

"I guess so."

"Okay. Then aardvark it is."

"You just get more and more interesting everyday," he said with a chuckle and a befuddled shake of his head. "Way to keep me on my toes."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

If she thought she was embarrassed the day she ran off the platform crying after her altercation with Hodgins, well, that moment had nothing on her more recent predicament. She'd been identifying bodies in Limbo. She'd gotten plenty of rest the night before since Booth had made it his personal mission to make sure she slept nine hours and took a nap in the evening when she got home from work. But Thursday night he had a previous engagement with Rebecca and Parker and she was left to her own devices. Left to her own devices she, of course, decided to stay and work.

She was shaken awake by an amused looking Dr. Saroyan. "Dr. Brennan, is there some reason you're asleep in Limbo at eight thirty on a Thursday night. Have you been evicted?"

Brennan colored a tomato-y shade of red; she could feel the heat burning in her cheeks. "No. I...uh...don't know...I'm sorry," she finally managed.

Cam pulled up a stool to sit next to Brennan. "Look," she said in her long perfected no-nonsense tone, "I'm a pretty smart lady. I can put two and two together. Or, in this case I can put one and one together and get to three."

"I don't know what that means."

Cam sighed. "I suspect, and feel free to correct me if I'm wrong, that you're pregnant Dr. Brennan."

Brennan felt her flush deepen and spread down her neck and across her chest. But she didn't deny Cam's statement.

Cam reached out and covered Brennan's hand with her own in an uncharacteristic display of affection. "Congratulations," she said softly, "and please tell Booth I said so."

"We're not telling anyone. Not yet," Brennan said quietly. Cam raised her eyebrows. "I wanted to be in my second trimester before I said anything. Just in case..."

Cam nodded. "I understand. Your secret's safe with me. And if you need anything, even if it's just to talk, well you know where my office is."

Brennan smiled a little. "Thank you." Cam had started up the stairs when Brennan stopped her. "Why were you in Limbo this late on a Thursday," she called.

Cam turned and grinned at her. "Ricky from security called me to tell me you were down here and not moving."

"Oh, God," she groaned.

Cam tapped the side of her nose and turned to continue up the stairs. Brennan didn't know what that meant but she was sure Cam would keep her confidence.

She walked through the front door that night about five minutes before Booth. When he arrived she was sitting at the dining room table staring into a cup of hot tea, trying to figure out how she was going to tell him she'd told someone she was pregnant after she'd practically sworn him to secrecy.

"Hey," he said when he walked through the door and dropped his keys in the basket on the table there, "I thought you might have gone to bed already." She didn't look up at him so he crossed over to the table and sat down in the chair just around the corner of the table from her. "Bones? What's the matter?" She looked up at him but wasn't able to contain tears. He looked panicked, "God, Bones, what's wrong? Did something happen with the baby?"

She shook her head vigorously. "No." But she sobbed anyway.

He got up out of his chair and pulled her up out of hers and into his arms. She burrowed into him as if she could crawl inside him to avoid telling him her news. "You're scaring me, Babe, what's the matter?"

She pulled back from him at his use of the endearment, unsure what to make of it. Unable to deal with that directly she confessed, "Cam knows I'm pregnant."

He deflated with relief and pulled her back tight into him. "Shit, Bones, you scared me half to death. Is that all that's got you upset?"

"But I told you we couldn't tell anybody until I—"

He cut her off, "I know. But it's not important, okay?" He rubbed her back while she cried. "Would it make you feel better if I told you someone else knew too?"

She stepped quickly out of his arms. "You _told_ someone?"

"Hey," he said defensively, "you told someone too!"

"I didn't tell her, she guessed!" She looked down at the floor. "I just didn't deny it."

"Well, Rebecca guessed to."

"What," she screeched. "You said she didn't suspect."

"Well I lied," he said throwing his hands up in the air.

"Why would you lie to me when you knew how I felt about it?"

"Because I was trying to avoid this conversation," he hollered. "And," he went on, though with considerably less volume, "since I'm already in trouble, Hodgins knows too."

"Great. Just great," she said with fire. "Is there anyone who doesn't know?"

He appeared to think for a moment then said, "Um, I'm going to start with "aardvark" because we have a bigger issue here."

"What?" The fire had left her voice and eyes at his use of their white-flag word.

"Well, Angela's your best friend and she's the last to know."

"Oh no," Brennan said with a groan and sat back down. "She's going to be pretty mad, don't you think?"

"Well, you know, I still think she's going to start with screaming and dancing around. But after that I'm not sure "pretty mad" is going to cover it."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

On Friday afternoon he picked Parker up from school. He wasn't sure about taking him to spend the weekend at Bones' but he wasn't ready to leave her alone yet, either. The bouts of lightheadedness seemed to be less frequent, but just that morning he'd grabbed her arm just a moment before she went ass over teacup when she tried to catch herself after she _thought_ she was falling. So before he could really think better of it he'd loaded his son up and headed toward Brennan's apartment.

They arrived before she did and Parker asked his father, "Why are we at Bones' house?"

"We're going to stay here this weekend."

"Why," the curious child asked.

"Well, Son, Bones' hasn't been feeling so hot lately so I've been keeping her company to make sure she's doing okay."

"Because she doesn't have anybody to take care of her," the younger Booth deduced.

"She's got us. We can take care of her, right?"

"Sure," he said with a shrug. "Does she have anything good to eat? I'm _starving_."

Booth ruffled his son's hair. "Let's see what we can rustle up."

They were both sitting at the dining room table eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches when she walked through the door. She stopped short with a surprised look on her face. "Hi, Parker," she said once she'd collected herself. Then, to Booth, "I thought you'd take Parker to your place tonight."

He looked unsure of himself and got up to stand closer to her and loop Parker out of the conversation. He stroked her forearm with the backs of his fingers. "I would have, but I don't want to leave you alone. Not while you're still getting lightheaded."

She nodded, "Okay. But we're going to be short a bedroom."

He was surprised by her quick acceptance of his and Parker's presence. "Parker and I can bunk together. Isn't that right, Parks," he called over his shoulder.

"I get to sleep with you," the little boy said with light in his eyes.

"Yep."

"Cool," he shrugged and went back to his sandwich.

"See," Booth asked. "Cool."

The three spent what turned out to be a rainy Saturday curled up on her couch watching movies. Somehow Bones had even got Parker to sit through _My Fair Lady_. Later that night, after Booth had made hot cocoa and tea for them, Bones and Parker waltzed around her living room like Eliza and Professor Higgins. He'd never seen her be so playful and carefree and certainly never with his son. It gave him hope that perhaps she'd be less inclined to hold him to a tightly regimented baby Einstein routine.

After their impromptu cotillion, the two of them had curled up together on the couch and fallen asleep while watching old Wile E. Coyote cartoons. Booth was so taken by the sight he rummaged around in her desk until he found her digital camera and snapped a shot. Bones, carrying his next son or daughter, and his son with his head in her lap and his small hand curled over her knee. He felt full then, to bursting, in a way he hadn't in years. He thought, then, he'd forever after associate the feeling with that moment and hopefully, he admitted to himself, many other similar moments to come.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Monday morning the nausea was back in full force and effect. She'd barely made it to the bathroom and had to clamp a hand tightly over her mouth as an insurance policy. Booth wandered into the bathroom. Once he'd realized the vomiting wasn't a sign of her own personal apocalypse he'd stopped rushing to her as if her very life depended on it. But he still always found her when he heard the tell tale din of her feet as she sprinted to the bathroom.

She wasn't sure how he did it. Despite the things she could see and smell, the sight or sound of someone vomiting always gave her the sympathy gags. But he would stand or sit beside her, hold her hair and stroke her back. And when she was done he'd hand her a cool, wet washcloth to wipe her neck and face. Then he'd stand by, looking apologetic, while she brushed her teeth.

She was feeling marginally better since the previous day she'd been able to complete all three chapters her publisher wanted while Booth and Parker attended church then a basketball game. They'd come in afterwards, Parker sticky with cotton candy, and made her a late lunch.

She'd declined to go with them to take Parker home as she wasn't yet ready to face Rebecca since the woman knew she was pregnant. Brennan wasn't ready to answer questions. Especially not ones from people who would have something to say or questions to ask about the status of her relationship with Booth. She started her next chapter while Booth was gone. And when he'd returned she cleaned the kitchen and he did some laundry. It wasn't until after she'd gone to bed that night she realized he'd been there almost a week and hadn't said a word about going home.

She didn't want to bring it up. Part of her was glad he was there and wanted him to stay. Part of that part she couldn't explain – the part of her that was irrationally happy to have him with her as much as possible. But part of her wanted him to go home, too. Not because he was hovering or driving her crazy, like she'd thought he would, but because she was afraid she'd grow to closer to him. That she'd come to rely on his presence. But they weren't in a relationship and eventually he would go. And she knew, now that she was being honest with herself, it would hurt. She figured the sooner he went the less it would hurt. But still, she didn't say anything.

And she was glad she hadn't as he passed her the cool washcloth for her face. "I hate this," she said as she sat back, already exhausted though she'd just woken up.

"It'll pass. Only a few more weeks of feeling this way."

"Some women have it their entire pregnancy."

He seemed as if he hadn't considered that. "Let's just hope you aren't one of them." He leaned over to help her up off the floor. "Go ahead and brush, I'll make you some of that chamomile tea that seemed to help last week."

She couldn't help but smile at him. "Thanks."

No, she wasn't ready for him to go. Not at all.


	11. Week 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: I struggled and struggled with this chapter. First and foremost big love to Kerrison. If it weren't for her the entire story may well have died with Chapter 9. The weekend was nearly impossible to write through. I tried, I did, but nothing came out right. She forced me to spank my inner critic and just write, damnit. Those parts of this chapter, I assure you, are the best.
> 
> Also, lots of thanks to tracgyrl who continues to answer my emails – though I'm not entirely sure why. :) Both ladies got copies of this chapter that included something along the lines of "what the hell do I do?" She was incredibly supportive as she read the rewrite and gently pointed out I was headed off on a tangent it was too soon to take.
> 
> So you have those two to thank that this story hasn't been completely derailed. I'm not sure how or why it happened (I mean, I outlined and everything!) but it did. It's still not the best thing I've ever written and I'm still not completely happy with it but the good news is, it finally has a some good moments (which it certainly didn't have when I started the panicked emails). The other good thing about this? We're one week closer to Week 12 – the next one I'm really, really excited to write!
> 
> Week 10 started out as something I thought would be a filler chapter but as it's presented now it's chock-full of story development. It's true that, even with the most careful planning, my characters really and truly take over the story at any given opportunity.
> 
> Hopefully you'll stick with me through this mess! The reception to this story has been so great. I've received a lot of review I've been remiss in replying to, and for that I'm sorry – but please know I've read and enjoyed every single one. Many have added this to their alerts (and favorites!) list and lots of thanks for that as well. First and foremost writers write for themselves but it's always wonderful to know the work you're producing is being enjoyed. So, without further ado, Week 10.
> 
> ~Amara

" _What's the worst thing you can do if you're feeling queasy? Skip a meal."_

Tuesday morning he'd made her breakfast. The same way he had every morning since he'd been staying with her. The same breakfast he'd now made her fourteen times. Dry toast. She turned it down. He can't really say he blamed her. It was barely seven thirty when he'd handed her the fourth cool washcloth she always seemed to like so much after she'd been sick. He was worried. He'd heard of morning sickness but it seemed ridiculously constant to him that morning. She'd assured him it wasn't anything to worry about but still he'd asked when she saw the doctor again.

"Week after next," she'd said before accepting his help off the tile floor of her bathroom.

"Is it normal to wait six weeks between visits," he'd asked.

She'd explained it wasn't but that most women didn't find out they were pregnant three weeks after the fact, either. It was usually four or five and then it made more sense to wait until the twelfth week. That's when they'd normally date the baby. It was the first ultrasound, she'd gone on to explain but he lost the thread of the conversation when she'd dropped her robe and revealed an apricot colored nightgown that reached to the indecent part of her mid-thighs. He'd excused himself, then, to make her toast.

He'd picked her up for lunch that day too and watched as she'd pretended to eat some split pea soup.

For dinner that night she'd cooked for him and she'd pushed her food around on her plate without actually taking a bite. He was sure. He'd been watching. And later that night he camped out in the bathroom with her. For an hour she sat on the floor within leaning distance of the toilet. He talked to her, stroked her back when she was overcome by the nausea, and provided her with a half a dozen cool washcloths.

"There's nothing in my body to throw up. I haven't really eaten today."

"You've taken three bites of soup today. That doesn't qualify as eating at all."

"This…what's the word? Sucks? This sucks. I hate being so sick."

He chuckled, "I never imagined you'd be the kind of woman who regressed when she got sick. Maybe you should try eating something."

She groaned in response.

"I know it's crazy, but I really think something in your stomach would help."

"I couldn't possibly eat right now."

"I'm getting you some crackers."

"Booth, I'm serious. No food," she choked the words out around another wave of nausea but was, by then, reduced to dry heaves. When she felt like the danger had passed he helped her stand again. "God, I'm woozy."

He chuckled. "Now I know you're not okay."

"What do you mean," she asked, leaning heavily against him.

"You used the word "woozy"." He helped her to her bed. "You're probably dehydrated by now. Do you think you can drink some water?" She screwed her face up and shook her head. "Well you're going to have to try. If you can't drink a glass of water I'm taking you to the hospital."

"It's not my fault," she pouted, "if I can't keep down the water. The baby is half Booth genetic material. Clearly that half is overdeveloped. This is her way of annoying me."

"Already she's mine when she's causing you trouble?"

She closed her eyes, relaxed into the bed, and said on a mumble, "She's always yours." Her hand settled right over the baby on the outside of the blankets. He smiled. That's what he liked to hear – affirmation that his strange little family was, and always would be, his.

As he made his way back out to the living room he realized how much he _liked_ her when her defenses were down and when she wasn't completely in control of everything around her. But ultimately, he was worried. It wasn't like her to be that sick and he didn't think women were supposed to be _that_ sick when pregnant. And it bothered him she couldn't, or at least didn't want to, eat. He grabbed his copy of the book he'd taken to keeping in the drawer of the end table by the couch. She didn't use the drawer, he knew, because all he found in there was a five year old copy of TV guide addressed to her ex-boyfriend.

He turned to Week 10 and read about what was happening to her and how their baby was developing. He discovered the baby was now prune-sized and that Bones was likely suffering constipation – he'd decided _that_ he really hadn't needed to know – but not how to help with her morning sickness. But he skimmed the book to a symptoms and solutions section and finally found his answer: Ginger.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

She was jerked awake by the sudden need to pee and noted, with relief, as she made her way to the bathroom the urge to vomit had passed. On her way back to bed she noticed light from the living room. She grumbled aloud about men in general and the lack of attention to such details. But when she got to the end of the hall she stopped in her tracks.

He'd fallen asleep on the couch. His feet were propped up on the coffee table and his head rested on the couch-ledge in a way that made the stretch of his neck look uncomfortable. But something about him there captured her gaze in a way that wouldn't allow her to look away. Or move.

She was struck again, as she often was, by the sight of him. He was a beautiful man. Her hand drifted to her belly as she thought about a boy who would grow up looking like him. But, more importantly, _acting_ like him. Their son would be a good, strong man. Like that man sprawled there on her couch. Or, if she gave his thoughts on the subject any life, a daughter. A daughter who would grow up to be compassionate the way her father was. She'd grow to be empathetic and emotive because _he_ would teach her that. The idea warmed her the way she'd be warmed the day she caught Booth dancing around her kitchen and she'd been reminded of her childhood and suddenly she understood _family._

When she felt as if she could move again she crossed the room to stand beside him. He was snoring softly and she found it strangely…endearing. A copy of _What to Expect_ was open on his chest and she identified it as the copy she'd given him by the Post-It flags that indexed the pages she'd wanted him to read. Gently, very gently, she picked the book up off his chest. He shifted slightly and she held her breath, loathe to wake him.

She glanced down at the open page and discovered he was in the symptoms section, specifically morning sickness. She had a sudden sensation of melting she wasn't sure she'd ever felt before. The logical part of her wanted to be angry. _Clearly_ this wasn't an issue she'd _wanted_ help on. If it were she'd have marked the page. But a long denied part of her couldn't help but point out that he _cared_. She'd been uncared for so long she wasn't quite sure what to do with the sensation.

She sat next to him in the tiny space between the high arm of her couch and his right thigh. She closed the book and leaned over to place it on the table. With an unsure hand she smoothed her fingers down his cheek and whispered his name. His eyelids fluttered before they opened as if she'd disturbed a dream.

"Bones," he croaked still half heavy with sleep, "you okay?" One large hand reached up to gently grasp her forearm.

"Shh," she whispered gently, "I'm fine. But you should go to bed. You can't sleep here." He blinked at her so she stood and caught his hand where it had started to drop from her arm. Fingers cupped with his she gave him a gentle tug. Instead of getting up he placed his feet flat on the floor and trapped her in the v of his thighs. Their eyes locked as they'd been doing quite frequently in the past couple of weeks. "You were reading the book. I didn't think you'd read it."

"Of course I've been reading it," he said as if she was partly crazy.

"I didn't mark that page."

"You didn't mark most of the pages. Doesn't mean they weren't important."

"Maybe it meant it wasn't for you to bother with."

"Maybe you don't know what I should and shouldn't bother with." He twisted his hands until their fingers were entwined. "I know this is going to be a hard concept for you to grasp, but there are a lot of things about you being pregnant that you're not going to be able to control."

"It's still my body, Booth."

"But it's been hijacked. That's okay. But there are going to be things happening that aren't going to make sense. You're not going to be able to logic everything into a neat little box. Most of all, me," he said seriously but gently and he tugged her a little until her knees bumped into the couch. "I'm going to surprise the hell out of you over the next thirty weeks, Bones."

She gasped when he tugged on her again and she lost her balance. He tipped her in midair to fall next to him, hip to hip and then he pulled her into his chest until her forehead rested on his neck so she feel the vibrations of his speech slide down her face. "This is so exciting for me, do you know that," he asked quietly. "I want to be with you every step of the way. There's not anything happening that I don't want to deal with, that I don't want to know about. And I hate that you're feeling so awful, but you'll feel better and I want to be here for that too.

"God, Bones, you're gonna glow. And you're gonna be happy. And you're not going to have any control over that either. You've got to learn to _let go_. It's a ride. An unpredictable sometimes messy ride. But every minute is worth it. Every moment is something to be savored. Good. Bad. Ugly. It's all a part of this absolutely amazing thing you can do. And I'm in awe. It astounds me what's happening to you.

"I'm not as smart as you are, but I'm a pretty intelligent guy. I've read the books too. But it's still blowing me away what you're doing right now. And it makes me feel strong knowing you couldn't have done it without me." He ran his fingers through her hair. "Well, I guess you _could have_. What makes me feel powerful is that you didn't want to. You may not realize it, and you might think you don't connect with people, but what you said just by asking me, well, you connected with me."

They sat quietly for a few minutes as if he realized he'd overcome her with his words and all the while he ran his fingers through her hair. Finally he shifted next to her, "You should really get back to bed." She nodded but she couldn't speak for the lump that had developed in her throat. He disentangled them and pulled her to her feet.

In her room he held the covers back for her as she climbed in and he smoothed them up under her chin. "Sleep is important, Bones," he chided lightly as if she'd been purposefully awake.

"I know," she finally spoke. "I'll sleep, I promise." The words fell out of her mouth and she wasn't completely sure why. But it felt important that she promise him _something_ and right then, that was the best she could do.

He gave her a smile and checked the setting on the alarm clock. She was quickly taken aback by his simple gesture. And again she was reminded just how he _cared_. The little ways he took care of her flooded her: making her breakfast, watching her caffeine, making sure she ate, cool washcloths and white-flag words. It's just who he was, she realized suddenly. He was just a guy who cared. Who did things because he wanted to not ever because it was what he was _supposed_ to do. Because he was never _supposed_ to be _this_ for her. But he was. And it ruined her, just a little, for anything that wasn't completely him.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

On Wednesday morning she looked especially pale to him. Her eyes were dull and she didn't have any energy at all when she finally dragged herself into the kitchen. She wasn't dressed for work, though, and that surprised him. "You're not going in today," he asked around a mouthful of cereal.

"I don't think I should," she said as she slid into the seat across from him.

"I've got a meeting at nine, but I could come back and stay with you afterwards," he offered.

He'd expected her to categorically deny his help but she surprised him. "Would you? I'm a little worried."

"Yeah," he said softly, "I'll come back." He got up and poured hot water out of the tea kettle into the cup he'd set on the counter with a tea bag then put a piece of bread into the toaster. He turned back to her, "I know you don't want to, but you need to try to eat something."

She nodded, "I know. I will."

They stared at each other until the toaster startled him as it ejected the toast. He slid it onto a plate and carried it over to her along with her tea. "It's just the usual. See if you can keep it down, okay?" She nodded at him. He could feel her eyes following him as he moved around her kitchen preparing his travel mug of coffee. When that was done he picked his cell phone up off the table. "Do you want me to call Cam and let her know?" She nodded again and took a small bite of her toast.

He dialed Cam's cell number and watched Brennan while he waited for Cam to pick up. She was nibbling at the toast but didn't look all that enthusiastic about it.

"Hello?"

"Cam, it's me. Bones isn't doing so hot this morning. She doesn't think she should come in."

"What's wrong?"

"She's been pretty sick. But I think I'm more worried than she is."

"Morning sickness?"

"Yeah," he chuckled, "though she'd probably throw something at you if you called it that. It's more an all-day-sickness she's been fighting."

"She's got to eat, Booth. She's not going to want to if she's feeling that bad, but it will really help with the nausea."

"She didn't eat at all yesterday. Said she felt too bad." His confession to Cam had Brennan sending him an annoyed glance. He tilted the speaker back from his mouth and said quietly, "Well, you didn't."

"Small meals, five or six a day, instead of three regular meals will help a lot too. But she's got to eat."

"Okay. Got it."

"Good. Tell Dr. Brennan we'll see her tomorrow."

"Thanks, Cam," he said and disconnected the call.

"She says you have to eat. It'll help with the nausea."

"Yes, I know," she says. "But you try eating when you feel like this." She pushed the last corner of toast into her mouth.

"Well, you ate a piece of toast. _I_ feel better."

She rolled her eyes. "Good."

He couldn't help but chuckle as he pulled his suit jacket off the back of the chair he'd been sitting in earlier and threaded his arms through the sleeves. "I'm going. But I'll be back around eleven. You should try to eat something else between now and then. Maybe try for another piece of toast? Or, there are some animal crackers in the cabinet."

"Animal crackers?"

"Picked 'em up a couple days ago since that's what our little zoo-keeper seems to like."

He thought she blushed just before she ducked her head. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." He dropped a kiss to the top of her head before he'd realized his own intention. "I'll call you on my way back to find out if anything in particular sounds appetizing for lunch."

"Okay," she nodded as if a little dazed.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Why had he done that, she'd wondered once he left. He'd _kissed_ her. She absolutely hated confusion and he'd just heaped a whole load on her. She'd always considered she'd be going through the pregnancy alone. He'd said he wanted involvement but she'd assumed, apparently incorrectly so, he meant with the child once it came. As she thought back to how she'd been feeling, though, she was very glad he seemed intent to be around. And his speech the previous night made it clear he had every desire to be with her through the pregnancy.

She'd expected to feel feminine and womanly once she'd gotten pregnant but so far she'd felt pretty awful. Between mood swings, morning sickness, fatigue and lightheadedness she felt more like a science experiment gone wrong than an expectant mother. She honestly wasn't sure what he was hanging around for. So far there'd been little in the way of joyous celebration. But he'd told her the night before she was going to _glow_. And he wanted to be there to see it.

They'd shared a few moments since she'd been pregnant. She thought back to the kiss they'd shared in Dr. Ashbacher's office, the night over dinner when he'd told her, awe in his voice, she was carrying _his_ baby and how he couldn't help but think of her _a little_ as his, the night he said _when_ they made love as if it were a foregone conclusion, the day in his car he'd said she was his type, the morning he'd felt their baby inside her, the night she'd been so upset he thought something had happened with the pregnancy and had called her "Baby". And then there was the fact he'd pretty much moved in. As far as she knew he hadn't been to his apartment in a week.

She knew something was changing but she didn't want to ruminate on it too much. Careful thought meant consideration and a change in their relationship wasn't something she was ready, or willing, to consider.

Except, she wanted him, when she wasn't feeling awful, anyway, in a way she hadn't wanted a man in a long time. She'd always used sex as less a way to connect with a potential partner and more a way to satisfy sexual urges. But the way she found she wanted Booth didn't have a whole lot to do with sexual urges, though she was sure it was a factor. She wanted _him_. Another man wouldn't do. She wasn't feeling the hormone induced attraction for anyone else. Only Booth. And that, she thought with some alarm, was highly peculiar.

Their time curled up on the couch last night had done nothing to assuage the barrage of feelings she'd discovered she had concerning him. Most were familiar: friendship, trust, comfort, attraction. Some weren't, like the odd sensations of home and family he seemed to be evoking. And a strange sort of ache that felt kind of fantastic deep in her chest.

Later on in the morning she had eaten some of the animal crackers. And though she was nauseous she'd managed to refrain from sprinting to the bathroom. But when he'd call to ask what she wanted for lunch nothing had sounded good to her and she'd told him to choose.

He'd brought her vegetable soup from the vegetarian restaurant she liked so much and ginger candy from the Oriental grocery by the FBI building. After she'd eaten half a bowl of soup he'd drop the candies into her hand and said, "The book said these might help. The old lady at the store said the same."

Thursday morning she'd sent him along to work swearing she was in fine shape to drive herself. She really did feel quite a bit better. She was sure it had more to do with the rest she'd gotten the day before than the food but she still forced herself to have breakfast. She made a quick call down to the doorman and made a request before she left but then she was on her way to work.

He was largely in his office that day but he'd sent her an email at ten reminding her to eat and she'd made a quick trip to the vending machines for animal crackers. At lunch time he'd brought her Tabbouleh, always a favorite, but at one o'clock she'd been reminded the baby was Booth's when he decided to reject that particular offering. Shortly after she'd ventured back to her office Cam had surreptitiously dropped a handful of peppermints on her desk with a small smile. She received a text at four that told her he'd "be home late…witness interview at five in Laurel, don't forget to eat something".

That night he'd come in looking tired and she'd put a bowl of leftover macaroni and cheese and a beer in his hands as he'd collapsed in front of a ball game. He'd smiled at her so brilliantly she'd been bowled over. Everything he did for her and he was grateful she'd handed him leftovers? She'd decided then, as if it were some sort of revelation after nearly five years of him, what a spectacular sort of man he was.

She'd ordered the parking decals from the doorman that morning and they'd been in her mailbox when she'd come home. Standing in the kitchen with the din of the basketball game in the background she'd set his travel mug on the counter next to the coffee pot and slipped the corner of the stickers underneath. She looked at them there and then decided she couldn't do it that way so she picked them back up. And as she held them in her hands, staring at her apartment number dash two, she began to panic. What was she thinking? She couldn't just do it _that way_ , she couldn't do it at all. Not yet, anyway.

While she was sure she wanted him to stay with her there was a lot to consider. He'd said he'd wanted to be around for everything but that didn't necessarily mean he meant to live with her. And what about Parker? It had worked when he'd stayed for a weekend, but what about every-other-weekend for the next seven and a half months? What about the occasional school nights he'd need to stay with his father if something came up for Rebecca? And Booth would eventually want or need his space. He was young, healthy and virile. Why would he want to stay when he could have everything he wanted even if he left?

No, she couldn't ask him yet. She fled to her bedroom and tucked the little stickers into her bedside drawer underneath a book she hadn't picked up in a year. They were safe there. Safe until she figured out what she wanted to do and how, exactly, she'd be able to do it.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Over the weekend she'd been asked to help identify some remains for the Jeffersonian's archeological department. And aside from a few more bouts of her all-day-sickness, as they'd taken to calling it, she seemed to be doing much better. He made sure she ate five or six times a day and she didn't grumble nearly as much as she had at the beginning of the week. He made sure she was getting plenty of sleep.

Sunday morning she'd wandered out to the living room where he was watching the twenty-four hour news and tying his tie for church. She was dressed in another one of those incredibly distracting nightgowns; that time a mint green that set her hair on fire. He whistled low and waggled his eyebrows at her. She'd just rolled her eyes. He figured she'd become much more comfortable with his presence because she'd mostly stopped finding robes to pull over her less-than-decent-wear. No complaints from his department.

"I'm having brunch with Angela today; I couldn't get out of it."

"Why would you want to get out of it?" He pinched the crease in his tie to perfect the dimple as he talked, finishing the Windsor knot. "She's your best friend."

She watched as he picked up his coffee and took a sip. "She thinks the big news I've been keeping from her is that we're sleeping together."

The sip of coffee he'd just taken lodged in his throat and as he sputtered he bent slightly at the waist and held the cup out and away from him before he ended up with coffee on his grey suit. "And rather than just tell her, since the cat's pretty much out of the bag, you let her believe that?"

"Well," she hedged, "I did tell her it wasn't true. But she wouldn't believe me."

"She would have if you'd just told her you were pregnant!"

She cocked her head and studied him. "Are you _upset_ I let her believe we were sleeping together? What do you think people are going to think when we tell them we're pregnant?"

"I think they'll ask," he said with exasperation. "Hodgins did."

"And you told him I was inseminated," she surmised and he nodded. "Would you prefer people _didn't_ think we were sleeping together? Does it matter somehow to you?"

He sighed. "I'm not sure. I hadn't given that part of it much thought."

"Do you," she started, "I mean, is there," she faltered, "would you like to be seeing someone and that's why it's important people don't think we're in a sexual relationship?"

"What if there were?" He was suddenly burning with desire to know what her reaction would be.

"I want you to be happy, Booth," she said after some consideration. "We're partners. Friends. And we're having a baby. That's all."

He wasn't sure what to make of that strange look in her eyes. It wasn't something he'd ever seen in her before but she looked tense. He decided to let her off the hook though he wasn't sure what hooks were out there for her to be caught on. "There isn't anyone, Bones. But you know I believe honesty is the best policy. You've always believed that too."

"I know. I'll tell her today, if it would make you more comfortable."

He nodded but said, "Whatever you want." But then he shook his head. "I understand why you want to wait, and if you still want to, that's fine. But honestly, Hodgins knows, Cam knows, hell even Rebecca knows. Angela's going to need to know as well – and I think you need to tell her. She's your best friend," he reiterated, "wouldn't her support be nice?"

"What if something happens," she'd asked softly.

He covered the short distance between them and stood in front of her, grasping her bare upper arms. "You're healthy. You're taking care of yourself. You're young. The chances of something happening are slim. And if something does happen, these are the people who are going to help us through it."

She nodded. "Okay." She seemed to collect herself. "You're going to be late for church."

He looked at his watch and discovered she was right. "Whatever you want to do is fine by me. You know what I think but it's your decision."

"I'm not sure what I'm going to do."

"Just let me know one way or the other so we don't end up in the middle of another aardvark conversation."

She smiled at him. "Okay."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Ultimately she'd decided over brunch to keep her news under her hat a little longer but even she couldn't understand how her friend didn't notice the intel was incorrect. Brennan picked at her toast and fruit and completely ignored the scrambled eggs on her plate. And she'd casually dismissed all of the questions Angela posed concerning Brennan's supposed relationship with Booth.

But Angela must have had something on her mind because she never seemed to realize anything was amiss. And when they were done eating the two women had hugged goodbye and Angela had kissed her cheek and headed toward the studio where she taught a beginner's art course on Sunday afternoons.

Brennan ran a few errands before returning home. She'd stopped by the dry-cleaners and smiled a little when she saw Booth's suits hanging next to a dress she'd recently had cleaned. They organized by address at that little shop and it warmed her to know that not only had he started using a cleaner closer to her home but also that he'd listed her address. Afterwards she'd stopped by the grocery store then at the produce stand a block from her apartment.

When she got home Booth was in the kitchen whistling. She stopped her progress to greet him, though, when she noticed a huge bouquet of pastel flowers on the coffee table. He'd brought her flowers? She crossed the room to them and plucked the florist shop's card, decorated with tiny pictures of baby accoutrements, out of its plastic holder. "Congratulations!" it read in her artist friend's flowery hand. Then, just below, "(I can't believe you thought I wouldn't figure it out!)" Brennan supposed she'd just been told exactly what her friend had on her mind that morning.

Booth cleared his throat behind her and she spun on her heels. He grinned at her. "Busted."


	12. Week 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: This chapter came about in the way it did because I heard a song. It was John Mayer's Slow Dancing in a Burning Room. I'd been IMing with Kerrison and told her I wanted to do a section of this chapter inspired by that song (even though it doesn't fit our heroes at all). So, in a way that only makes sense to the two of us, probably, she said "FIGHT!". Well, readers, I didn't quite end up with a fight (though that's what I initially set out to write), but we did end up with some interesting revelations. I'm sure you'll be able to pick out which section I wrote while listening to the song.
> 
> I think I did better responding to the reviews this time. I sure hope I got everybody. But, if I missed you, blame the fact that I'm overly fatigued here lately and sometimes my brain isn't all that reliable.
> 
> Hope you all enjoy this chapter. I'm still looking forward to the next one...
> 
> Oh, and one last little thing: Out of character vs. In Character. Prepare for a little (okay, okay, a lot!) OoC this time around. But I promise, it all works out in the end.
> 
> ~Amara

" _Hungry? Good."_

"I _can't believe_ you didn't tell me you were pregnant," Angela admonished over dinner Tuesday night. She tossed a piece of bread, torn off a dinner roll, at her friend. "If you tell me it's not Booth's I'm going to bean you with the rest of the roll," she said with a wicked grin.

"Of _course_ he's Booth's," Brennan said as if any other thought was just ludicrous.

"He? How far along are you?"

Brennan couldn't help the bloom of a smile or the becoming pink blush that swept across her cheeks. "Eleven weeks today."

"You _bitch_!" Angela's brilliant smile took any possible sting out of her words. "You're a quarter of the way through and you didn't say anything!"

"I wanted to wait until I'd reached the second trimester. That's still a few weeks away," Brennan said reasonably.

"So what's the deal with "he"? You can't possibly know yet."

"No, we don't know. But Booth seems convinced we're having a girl."

"And you have to challenge him," Angela said knowingly. "This whole "we" thing is adorable, by the way. I knew you two wouldn't be able to sleep together without acknowledging how you feel."

Brennan cleared her throat then took a sip of her iced herbal tea. "Angela, honestly, Booth and I aren't sleeping together. I was artificially inseminated."

Angela arched one perfectly sculpted eyebrow at her. "You can't tell me Daddy Booth's playing this one cool."

"I don't know what you mean by that."

"He's got to be champing at the bit for you right now."

Brennan sighed wondering how much to reveal to her friend. "I'll admit things are…changing."

"Honey, you couldn't possibly have thought they wouldn't."

"No," Brennan agreed, "I think I knew, deep down, pregnancy would change our relationship. How could it not? We're going to parent together. Now we'll have to regard each other in ways we never imagined."

"That's definitely not what I meant."

"I'm not sure what you expect me to say."

"That you realized you're madly in love with him, can't live without him and want to have oodles more babies with him!" Angela threw frustrated hands into the air.

"That's neither rational nor practical."

"Honestly, Bren, at this point I don't think rational or practical should be real high on your list."

"I'm having a baby. I'm supposed to be exactly that."

"So what did you mean when you said things were changing?" Angela sat back in her chair, food long forgotten amidst the fodder-y gossip.

Brennan sighed and drew patterns on the table cloth with the tip of her index finger. "It's just not at all like I thought it would be."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, first I made this giant leap and decided I wanted a baby. There are a lot of rational reasons for it. I made a list." Across from her Angela's eyes sparkled with amusement. "But there were irrational reasons as well. I just _wanted_ to, you know? And then I decided to ask Booth for his help. That part was less sufficiently planned. I'd known I wanted a baby for a couple of weeks before I said anything to him about it. I'd only been thinking about asking him to donate for a couple of days before I did.

"Then he was diagnosed with the tumor and had the surgery and subsequent coma, I went to Guatemala and by the time I came back it was like we'd never discussed procreating."

"Except that in your book _and_ in his coma-dream you were pregnant," Angela interrupted. She appeared to be hung on her friend's words as if she were watching a summertime blockbuster.

"Right," Brennan nodded. "Six months ago we talked about it again and decided we'd try. And we did, almost right away, but the insemination didn't take. Nor did it a second time." Even though she knew the outcome of the story, Brennan couldn't help tearing up a little over the memory of how it had felt during that incredibly tumultuous time. She dabbed at her eyes with her linen napkin and continued. "We knew there was only enough of the sample to try one more time. He offered to give another sample so we could keep trying but I couldn't do it, Ange. I've never done anything as difficult in my life as try to get pregnant."

Angela reached across the table and covered Brennan's hand with her own. "Sweetie, I'm so sorry. I could have been there for you."

Brennan nodded. "I know. And I knew you'd probably be upset I'd gone through that without saying anything to you. But I couldn't talk about it. Especially not after the second time I found out I wasn't pregnant."

"But you went in for the third insemination."

"Yes. And, obviously, it worked."

"And the getting-pregnant-process changed your relationship with Booth?"

Brennan considered that. "Yes and no. He was..." she couldn't think of the right words and finally settled on, "very supportive. It was a very emotional time."

"And you've never been exactly comfortable with emotions."

Brennan ducked her head and grinned. "No. And then, of course, came the first month of the pregnancy when I seemed to be so short tempered."

"Short tempered," her friend asked with a smirk, "is that what we're calling it?"

"It's not like I have any control over it! And worse for me was the swing from incredibly angry to crying. I've never cried as much in my life as I have since I've been pregnant."

"Well," Angela shrugged helplessly, "hormones. And what about now that you actually are pregnant?"

Brennan sighed heavily. "I can say with complete and total honesty that I'm very confused. We've been," Brennan paused while she considered how much to divulge, "spending a great deal of time together."

"You say that as if it was unexpected."

"It was. To a point, anyway. I knew, we'd talked about it, he wanted to be involved. He couldn't father a child he couldn't raise. I understood that. But he seems to have meant he wanted to be involved in the pregnancy as well."

"You're surprised that a he-man like Booth would want to be around to revel in the fact he was making babies? For most guys that's the most impressive thing they'll ever do. And as much stock as he puts in family, and the way he feels about Parker, you couldn't have thought he'd have allowed you to call him up after you gave birth and ask him to come down and sign the birth certificate."

"I'm not entirely sure I followed that," Brennan said.

"I'm saying, of course he would want to be involved. He'll be as underfoot as you'll allow." She grinned. "I'm betting he's one of those guys who get all turned on by the fact they've impregnated a woman."

"For crying out loud, Angela," Brennan exclaimed, "I told you we're not sleeping together! We're having a baby, that's all."

"I'd be willing to be a year's salary that's not _all_ you two are doing at all. I think you think that's the end of it. But I'm serious, Sweetie, Booth's got big-man-family genes. The way you two felt about each other before, well, I'm expecting fireworks as the pregnancy progresses."

"The way we felt about each other," Brennan scoffed but she sounded unconvincing even to herself. "We're friends. Yes, there's a certain amount of... affection...between us. And yes, we're having a child together." She began to lose the chase of her argument. "Which is going to change everything. And he buys things like animal crackers and gives me washcloths."

Angela's eyebrows raised in amusement as she watched her friend spiral off the beaten path in front of her.

"And just because we kissed when we found out we were pregnant doesn't mean there's anything between us."

Angela's eyebrows shot the rest of the way towards her hairline as Brennan continued but seemed not to realize she was still at their dinner table.

"The things I think I've been feeling are hormonal. That's all. He's always around. I can't get any time to _think_."

Angela cut Brennan off before she was able to talk herself into a really good crazy. "You've got to slow down. You went in about eighteen different directions in fifteen seconds. Just tell me one thing, one thing – it could be anything, that's _real_ about your relationship with Booth right now. Don't hold back, don't sensor, just one thing."

Brennan's near tirade stopped and she focused wide, surprised eyes on her friend. "I don't know what that means."

"Yes you do," Angela pushed. "Tell me something real. So real even _you_ can feel it."

A small smile lifted the corners of her mouth. "He _cares_ for me." She turned her focus to her pasta for which she was suddenly ravenous. Angela took the hint and let the Booth situation lie and before too long took back up on the baby train of thought. Brennan relaxed then. It was much easier to deal with the uncertainly of a child than it was to deal with the uncertainty of the changes in her relationship with Booth.

She and Angela stood outside in the parking lot talking for fifteen minutes when they were through with dinner. They parted with a hug and as Brennan got in her car her cell phone chimed with a text message. "Going with SA Krantz to round up one of his snitches. Be back late. I'll call." She looked at the clock on her dash, it was just after nine.

The city lights lulled her into thought as she drove and she felt a definite shift in demeanor as a spring rain forced her to turn on her windshield wipers. She went back to her conversation with Angela and all the things she _didn't_ say. Like how she was confused by the feelings that were taking root inside her. She didn't want to talk to the evocative artist about them. Not when she couldn't speak on them in any intelligent terms.

She'd long ago written off most emotions as a waste of time. They were impractical and a waste of energy. She remembered what _feeling_ felt like, though, and she knew she'd been treading that water for some time. She wasn't naïve enough to believe that being pregnant wouldn't evoke some serious emotions. But she hadn't counted on Booth. Not the way he'd been since they embarked on this journey. He was so _present_ and had a way of crawling inside her head even when she didn't want him there.

She'd be hard-pressed to name another man who'd known her even half as well as he did. And he stirred things within her she'd long ago decided were things she didn't need to deal with nor identify. She'd never wanted anyone around before. People had come into her life and left. Far too many times. Some people had come into her life and stayed – despite the fact she did little to encourage their loyalty. But Booth came into her life and _changed_ it.

She arrived back at her apartment building and pulled into her designated spot. She sat there, engine running, studying the empty space next to hers. She thought of the parking decals in her bedside drawer. All that did was remind her that she wanted him to stay. It reminded her that all she really wanted to was to curl up in the recesses of the socially acceptable and _depend_ on somebody. But she'd done that before and it had never turned out well.

She had no reason to believe she couldn't trust Booth but people had a way of changing when you put your faith in them. As if, once you had, they no longer had to live up to it. No, she couldn't lose herself that way. And that meant she couldn't fall for him. Not _really_ fall for him. So instead she kept trying to shore up the cracks in the mortar of her he'd been lining into place. With disgust she yanked the keys out the ignition and stalked into her building and up the stairs bypassing the elevator in favor of exercise.

By the time she walked in the front door she'd worked herself into a near panic. There was evidence of him everywhere. On the dining room table was the newspaper he'd read that morning before leaving for work. Some mail he'd collected, at some point, from his apartment lay on the kitchen counter, waiting for his follow up.

She wandered down to the hall to the open door of the guest room he'd been occupying. There, on the dresser in a holster, was the weapon he carried on his belt when his shoulder holstered weapon wouldn't do. Next to that, change and some lint that had been in the bottom of his pants pocket. On the neatly made bed was a tie he'd apparently discarded. Running shoes sat in front of the chair in the corner.

Back in the kitchen she found a coffee mug she didn't recognize in the sink. In the fridge, a few remaining bottles of her preferred international beer sat forgotten behind his more popular imported favorite. In the laundry room she found some of his crazy striped socks tangled amongst her more sensible white, brown and black ones.

It hit her, all of a sudden, that he'd _moved in_. Without either really realizing it he'd crossed over from just _staying_ because she felt bad to _living_ in her apartment. It had only been a few weeks. But, as she thought back, she realized he'd slept in her guest room every night since her lightheadedness had begun.

She kicked her shoes off flinging them in opposite directions to lie in angry, pointy heaps up against a wall and a bookcase. The rational part of her started to go and pick them up but a part of her deep inside, a part of her she could only define as _female_ told her to "fuck it, leave the shoes."

She felt scattered. The low grade panic, because by then she realized what she'd felt when she walked in the door was only a fraction of what she was capable of feeling, had mushroomed into something akin to terror. And where there lived terror, she'd learned in her life, lived dread. And that was never a feeling she'd wanted to associate with Booth.

She poured herself a glass of red wine knowing she was going to have to explain herself to him. But what she was feeling needed tempering and _she_ knew a glass of wine was safe. She grabbed the prohibited and allowed foods list Dr. Ashbacher gave her along with a copy of the 2008 study published in the _International Journal of Epidemiology_. And the knowledge she'd need those items on hand served to add "anger" to the list of emotions she was feeling. She'd always been a strong, independent woman. Since when did she let any man, any _one_ really, have an opinion on her lifestyle?

She didn't let herself reason he was allowed to have an opinion because it was _his_ baby too. Or that he was allowed to have an opinion because she trusted and respected him. No, she didn't think those things at all. She sat, she paced, she sat, she paced, she sat. She sipped at her wine and stared at the clock that ticked minutes closer to the moment he'd walk, whistling, through her front door.

And whistle himself right in he did at eleven thirty. He stopped in his tracks and his whistled died on his lips when he saw her shoes uncharacteristically scattered and her sitting stiffly on the couch, legs crossed, and the remnants of a glass of wine in her hand. "Are you _drinking_?" His voice held a note of disbelief.

"What does it look like?" She'd snapped her voice harder than she likely ever had before. She hadn't really intended to snap but it was her own personal defense against bursting into tears of fear and frustration.

"Alcohol's bad for the baby. What are you doing?" He crossed to her and reached for the glass which she'd childishly held away from him.

"Studies show—" she started but wasn't allowed to continue.

There was softness in his eyes she didn't want to see, it made not feeling for him exceptionally difficult, as he interrupted, "Bones, is something wrong?"

She rotated her head on her shoulders while she thought about how, exactly, to answer him. "No," she finally said. "Something's not wrong. But things aren't right either, are they? Everything's changing."

He chucked nervously and sat down on the couch a cushion and a half away from her. "You're not making any sense."

Somewhere deep down in side she knew he was right. She wasn't making any sense. She wasn't focusing on any one particular subject. She was in turmoil and it tarnished the usual fluid thought processes she was more familiar with. "I've spent my entire adult life putting things in order. My education, my career, my finances...bones… It's taken just six months to completely blow everything all apart."

"Did something happen today?"

"God," she exhaled the word with force, "no, nothing happened. I'm not talking about today. I'm talking about life. Nothing is fitting together the way it usually does." Her free hand flailed around in front of her as if trying to gain purchase on her thoughts while she appeared to use the glass as a weapon against her inner ghosts. "You're _here_ all the time and I can't think straight."

To her he looked slightly shocked. "Do you want me to go?"

"No," she gasped. She _didn't_ want him to go. She wanted him to _stay_. That was the problem. Especially considering he already appeared as if he were planning to do so. Without consulting her. Then, "yes." Her eyes locked on his. "I don't know what I want. I'm not used to feeling like this." She laughed derisively. "I'm not used to feeling at all. Do you know how hard I've worked on that?"

He spoke slowly, as if to a child. "On not feeling?"

"Nothing good comes from making decisions when in an emotional state. Emotions cloud logic. All decisions should be made logically without regard to the interpretation of your choices by others." She took several deep breaths. "You didn't call on your way back. You said you'd call. Why didn't you?"

"I'm gonna stop you because you're not even sounding like yourself right now." He slid from his seat and crouched down in front of her. "Are you feeling bad? Scared?" He slid his hands up over her knees to rest on her lower thighs.

She tingled under his touch. She didn't want to tingle for him but she couldn't seem to help it. She couldn't seem to help, either, the way she felt full when he was with her. Or how he made her feel safe. Or how he'd reminded her what being part of a family felt like. Or how he'd made her realize how important it was to be cared for. Or even, though she couldn't assimilate the thought, how she wanted nothing more than to push him backwards and over until he was lying on her living room floor, remove his clothing, impale herself on him and forget anything that wasn't physical and visceral.

"Don't you understand?" Tears of frustration thickened her voice and shimmered in her eyes. "I only feel _right_ when you're right in front of me."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

She looked mortified by her admission but the flood gates had opened. The tears that had been threatening spilled down her face and words just bubbled up out of her as if she'd somehow been possessed by demons she didn't believe in. He stroked his hands up her thighs to her hips, up her sides to her shoulders then back down to her wrists. He divested her of the wine glass and pulled her to him until she had no choice but to tumble into his lap.

Her legs fell open to accommodate his and he wrapped her up tight in his arms. He was afraid he was crushing her, but damnit she was scaring him. He didn't know the woman in his arms. The Brennan he knew was strong, salient, logical, commanding and focused. Who she'd become that evening was someone he'd never met and the only thing he knew how to do was to hang on to her, show her he was with her and not going anywhere.

She grappled for purchase on his body, her hands everywhere they could reach. She babbled into his neck as her tears transferred from her cheek to his. He whispered to her, nonsense things that couldn't give her reassurance but lent a little credibility, he imagined, to his new party line: with you and not going anywhere.

Finally her words began to string together in a way that made sense to him again. "This is scary. There are emotions. And parking decals. And macaroni. And it's too much!"

He held on to her tighter when she trembled against him. But part of him, a part that was deeply relieved that she'd resumed speaking coherent English, bubbled up through his lips as a laugh. "Bones, as usual, I have no idea what you're talking about." He loosened his grip on her a little so he could run his hands up and down her back. "I think you're underestimating the power the hormones have over you. This has been one hell of a mood swing."

"It's not a mood swing," she mumbled into his shoulder.

He quirked an eyebrow she couldn't see. "Okay," he said in a more modulated tone than he'd thought he was capable of in response. He shifted them around until they were comfortably arranged on the floor, he on his back with an arm curled around her, drawing her into his side and easing her head to his shoulder. To his surprise she nestled into him so he wrapped his other arm around her as well keeping her tight to him.

"Let's just talk. You and me. Like we always do. You can explain things to me and everything." He smiled though she couldn't see it.

"I can't talk about this. If I don't know what I'm thinking, how could I possibly tell you?"

"That's why people talk, sometimes, to work through things. Not all of us have the capacity to figure things out in our heads all by ourselves." He stroked the back of her incredibly smart head as he said that. He knew she relied on it incredibly and that night it had let her down.

"Where do I start?"

"Let's start somewhere easy," he suggested. "How was dinner with Angela?"

"It was fine. We ate at that new Mediterranean place on L Street."

"Mmm," he rumbled in acknowledgement. "What did you have?"

"Spinach linguini in a caper sauce."

"And how mad was Angela that you hadn't told her you were pregnant?" He shifted when her hand started making light circles on his chest. He was supposed to be distracting _her_ not the other way around.

"I think she was more excited than angry."

He exhaled when he realized she was sounding like herself again. Her voice had taken on its more usual, modulated tone. Her speech was more conversational and less maniacal than it had been only minutes before. "Yeah?"

She nodded and he could feel her cheek slip across the material of his dress shirt. "Though she was surprised when I told her we really weren't in a sexual relationship."

He tensed. Lying with her on the floor, her body tucked snugly up against his, her head in the crook of his shoulder and her hand sweeping arcs across his chest while she said the word "sexual" caused a tightness to develop that started in his chest and snaked down into his groin. He took a handful of deep, cleansing breaths before he continued. "But you've set her straight now?"

"I think so."

She was keeping something from him, he could tell. Angela was probably probing for all sorts of details about the nature of his and Bones' relationship. That's likely what prompted her meltdown.

He'd felt a shift in their relationship since she'd started trying to get pregnant. They'd always been close but they seemed...closer. She seemed more open to him. Less guarded around him. Part of that, he knew, was due to the hormones that had turned her into an emotional mess and also the hormones that had kicked her sex drive into high gear. As far as he knew she'd done nothing to satisfy those particular urges which suited him just fine.

But if he'd felt the shift she probably had too and was far less equipped than he to assimilate the information. No wonder she'd taken a leap into the abyss that night. He cleared his throat. "I'm not going to say I know what you're feeling but I can understand if you're confused about things right now."

She propped herself up on an elbow to look down at him. It would be so easy to lean up into her and kiss her until she couldn't think anymore. To take it further and give her what she'd been subtly, and sometimes not so subtly, asking for. He'd discovered, in his many years with women, that a lot could be solved through sex – even if they complained that men put too much stock in the physical. But Bones, well, she thought about sex differently than most women did. Would it be a way for him to connect with her? Or, would she merely write it off as the resolution of biological urges? He couldn't take that chance with the state of mind he was in. So he'd pressed himself down deeper into the carpet rather than stretching his neck up and tasting the quizzical look right off her face.

Finally, she spoke. "I am confused about things right now. I can honestly say, for the first time in years, I don't know what I want. I don't even know what I need. I just know that I'm feeling things I don't usually allow myself to feel."

"Like what?" If he sounded breathless it's because he was. He didn't know what she was going to say.

"Anger," she started. "Fear, maybe. Pressure to _do_ something or _be_ something, although I'm not sure what. I feel...something...about you that's different than normal."

What could she mean by that, he wondered. He decided not to delve too deep lest she spook and his chance to find out what was really going on her head vanished. "We're having a baby together. Things are going to change, feel different."

"I never wanted that," she said sadly.

He reigned in a gasp before he gave too much away and asked instead, "What do you want?"

"You're one of my best friends. You're my partner. I don't want to lose that."

"You're not going to lose that."

"But with everything else—"

He cut her off, "No matter what else there is, you've got that. I'm with you," he finally said aloud, "and I'm not going anywhere."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

It was hard to avoid someone when you lived with them. She determined that Thursday after she'd spent much of Wednesday hiding out in various little know areas of the Jeffersonian. If she went home he'd be there. Wednesday night was uncomfortable enough when he'd tried to talk to her over a quick take-out dinner.

She'd escaped to her office Thursday morning before he'd even been awake. It was the first time she'd completely beaten him up and out of the house since he'd been there. She'd tried to work, but she found she had too much on her mind. But it was lunchtime, she was ravenous and his cheerful whistle rung out through the cavernous space of the platform area. He was there to take her to lunch. He'd told her the night before he'd be picking her up.

The whistling stopped and she imagined he'd been waylaid by Hodgins or Cam. Perhaps even Angela. She sighed with relief. She'd never understood before what Angela meant by being "on an emotional rollercoaster" but she's pretty sure that's what she'd encountered. She took what little alone time she had left to collect herself. She was exhausted. She'd not been sleeping well the past couple of nights and she knew her body was working overtime as it was.

Before too long, and before she was ready, he appeared in her office doorway. He gave her a brilliant smile that didn't let on at all whether or not he'd noticed she'd done a brilliant job of avoiding him since their impromptu heart to heart on her living room floor. But she knew he'd noticed. She knew because she'd seen the flash of hurt in his eyes the night before when she'd fled to her bedroom only moments after she'd finished her last bite of dinner.

"Ready for lunch, Bones?"

She gave him a smile she hoped reached her eyes. She could do lunch, she knew she could. She just needed to push away those feelings of intense embarrassment she'd been carrying around. "Yes," she forced brightness into her voice. "I'm very hungry."

He chuckled. "I gathered by the remnants of breakfast I found in the kitchen this morning."

She hoped that would be his last reference to her conspicuous absence that morning, but she'd be lucky if it were. "I'm growing a baby _and_ a placenta. It tends to make women tired and hungry. Plus, no nausea when I woke up this morning."

He grinned at her again. "That's great!"

"I agree." She'd slipped into a light coat and followed him out to his SUV. They made polite conversation and both of them seemed to be making a concerted effort to keep their interaction light.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Once they were seated she'd ordered a salad and French fries and he'd ordered an open-faced roast beef sandwich with brown gravy that sounded absolutely disgusting to her. But when their food arrived hers did little to pique her interest. The beef across the table from her, however, smelled phenomenal. She shook her head, disgusted with herself. She was a vegetarian and had been for many years. It was a political statement on her part as well as an opinion on how to keep in the best health.

But before she realized what she was doing she'd reached across the table to snag an errant piece of meat off his plate. His eyes widened as she popped it into her mouth and groaned with pleasure. "Uh, Bones, you know that's not Tofu, right?"

"I know, I know," she said guiltily while eyeing another piece of the beef, "but it tastes fantastic."

"I know," he said and swatted the hand that had wandered back across the table toward his plate, "that's why _I_ ordered it. You've got your rabbit food. Have at it."

"I haven't eaten meat in _years_ , Booth," she said and when he looked up at her distractedly she struck – and scored another piece of his sandwich filling.

"I'm aware. And," he said smacking the back of her hand again lightly, "you're not eating it today. Get out of my food."

Finally convinced she wasn't going to get to steal near enough of what she'd discovered to be quite a treat she flagged their waitress down and ordered a sandwich of her own. He just stared at her, gob smacked. He ate his meal while she ate the salad she'd ordered. He laughed when she'd taken a bite of a French fry only to discover the taste had become completely unpleasing to her and she spit it back out into her napkin. Then, as he ate his slice of Apple Pie he watched in fascination as she devoured an open faced roast beef sandwich with brown gravy.

When she sat back full and, if the smile on her face was anything to go by, happy he said, "That's the best you've looked in two days. I didn't realize meat would be the key. I could have done meat." He held his breath for her reaction.

She laughed, a beautiful carefree sort of sound he hadn't heard from her in a long while. "I'd never have dreamed meat, either. I guess we've got a new reason to call him a zoo-keeper."

"Yep," he'd said with pride, "beef and animal crackers. That's definitely my kid."

She seemed to relax after that and settle back into his presence. She'd been engaging when they'd both been home Thursday night and by Friday evening he'd felt better about having Parker with them for dinner than he'd thought he would earlier in the week. That night he packed the SUV and he and Parker left out for their first camping trip of the year.

He hadn't wanted to leave her, but she seemed to be feeling better. And, he and Parker took that trip every year – the boy looked forward to it and had been talking about it all week. Two nights out under the stars, roughing it in a tent and sleeping bags. So despite the slight ache he had when he realized he'd be leaving her alone for two nights, he pasted a smile on his face. He'd enjoy himself and his son.

That night, after he and Parker had set up camp, he wondered if, in five or six years time, he'd be taking two sons on the camping trip. He itched to tell his boy about the new baby, but it wasn't yet time. And if he told Parker without clearing the details with Rebecca first, well, he probably wouldn't live to see either of his kids grow up. It was coming. In just a couple weeks Bones would clear them for spreading the news.

He'd have to tell Rebecca. She'd have to tell her father. He was going to have to tell Cullen. And it wouldn't be long before people were going to be able to tell she was pregnant. After that the news would be all over the Bureau and there wouldn't be any speculation about who the father was. Try as he might he'd never been able to quell the rumors he was sleeping with her.

Honestly, he hadn't tried all that hard to quell the rumors. It made it easier to keep hound-dog agents away from her if they thought she was spoken for. And he'd long had interest in keeping men away from her. He'd not always had a lot of luck, but he'd certainly had interest.

When he and Parker returned to D.C. on Sunday they'd stopped at her apartment first then the Jeffersonian before finally finding her at the diner. Parker happily plopped down into the seat next to her and started chattering away while Booth flagged down the waitress.

Bones was back at the meat – that time she was demolishing a mean looking hamburger and looking incredibly pleased with herself. Whatever distance that had been lingering in her eyes before he'd left was completely gone. Evidently a couple of days with him away had renewed her good will toward him. In a way he was happy but it also worried him that his absence, rather than his presence, was the required prescription for her peace of mind.

They'd all shared a happy lunch and she'd suitably ooh'd and ah'd over Parker's bug bites. She'd even gone with him to drop Parker back at Rebecca's.

"You look like you're feeling better, Dr. Brennan," Rebecca had said with a smile.

Brennan smiled back at her and Booth sighed with relief. Part of him still thought she was going to be mad Rebecca knew about the pregnancy. "I am, thank you. The morning sickness seems to have passed."

"How far along are you?"

Booth felt a clenching in his stomach. The longer the conversation continued the more time Bones had to drop the bomb that the baby was his. And Bones didn't know he'd withheld that little detail. "Eleven weeks, nearly twelve now, I guess." She covered her belly with her hand in that endearing way pregnant women had and he looked over at her and grinned.

Rebecca glanced between the two of them and her eyes narrowed slightly. She must not have been sure, though, because miraculously the investigatory look disappeared from her face.

The two women exchanged pleasantries for a couple more excruciating minutes and then finally they were ready to leave. When they were safely back in his SUV he gave an exaggerated sigh of relief.

"What?"

He shot her a sheepish grin, "I thought you were going to out me, for sure. Rebecca figured out you were pregnant, but I didn't tell her I was the father."

"Oh," she said thoughtfully. "I didn't realize."

"It's okay. I just...I want to tell her in the right way. I'm not sure how she's going to feel about it. I think Parker will be okay. He's young but he gets the step-family thing. It's pretty common with his friends."

"You're waiting until we've reached the second trimester, then?"

"It seemed important to you."

She nodded, "It is. So far very little of this has gone to plan, though."

He laughed. "I know. But, as long as we try, things'll probably work out more or less like we'd originally thought they would."

In a stunning display of understanding she reached across the console and placed a hand on his forearm. "You're a good father, Booth. I think Rebecca will understand why I asked you."

He couldn't help but smile at her. That wasn't the answer, not by a long shot, but it made him happy to know that's what she thought of him.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

By Monday morning she'd regained her sense of equilibrium. Whatever it was that had seized her at the beginning of the week had released her. Her day and a half separation from Booth had done wonders for her frame of mind. She'd had a chance to think about him without his presence filling her up with things she couldn't name. And, when he was gone, she realized how much she liked having him around.

Balance. It was a wonderful thing.

She'd had dinner with Angela Saturday night and _that_ conversation hadn't prompted a meltdown. As a matter of fact, they hadn't spoke about Booth or the baby, much, and had focused primarily on Angela who was, to her great relief, no longer celibate. It had been fun to engage in some old-fashioned girl-talk with her friend. More balance, she thought, as she'd spent very little time during the beginning of her pregnancy focused on anything other than the pregnancy itself or its side-effects on her life.

Yes, by Monday she was feeling better. She'd confirmed her sonogram appointment for the following day and called Booth to make sure it was on his schedule as well. She was excited.

The next day they would see their baby for the very first time.


	13. Week 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: This chapter took a while to produce. Not because I didn't want to write it, but it seems because I did. I had a lot I wanted to do and say in this chapter and hopefully I've succeeded. Also, I realized while writing this chapter, somewhere along the way my style changed a little. I tried, desperately, to go back to where I started this story, to pick up the crucial moments as they passed through the weeks of the pregnancy. I hope you feel like I've cut out the unnecessary bits as well.
> 
> Thanks to all for, what is to me, the overwhelming response to this story. It's had a lot of readers and a lot of reviewers and I can't thank you all enough.
> 
> A quick reminder: Nano has begun. I'll try to update this as often as possible, but I've got word count goals to meet each day on multiple projects. It's still my goal to produce a chapter of this story every three days, but I can tell you it won't always work. It took five days to write this one. But I'm trying. I promise I'm not holding out for begging or holding out for reviews. Those things won't make the story come faster. It's just, there are only so many hours in a day. And, while I'd love to spend twelve hours a day writing fanfiction, it's just not possible.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy this chapter. I did!
> 
> ~Amara.

" _While it may seem as if you've doubled in size over the past few weeks, it's your baby who actually has!"_

The morning of the sonogram she woke up feeling pregnant. She didn't wake up feeling sick or lightheaded. She woke up happy. But most of all she _felt_ pregnant _._ She'd see her baby later that morning, finally.

She looked down her body at her still-flat stomach and discovered she had to try a little harder to look over her breasts than she normally did. Well, _they'd_ certainly gotten bigger, even if her midsection hadn't really. According to her scale she was a half pound heavier than she was the morning she found out she was pregnant.

A soft knock on her door frame pulled her away from her cursory examination of her body. Booth stood there holding a cup of tea and wearing a soft smile that turned her stomach over and over again. Since when did he look at her like _that_? "Good morning, Sunshine."

He gave her a moment to prop herself up in the bed before he set the cup in her hands. As the sheets settled around her hips she watched with fascination as his gaze dropped to her breasts. She cleared her throat but laughed and it came out a jumbled throaty chuckle that spread a lazy smile across his face. He'd been caught but he didn't seem embarrassed.

She'd been catching him looking at her a lot over the past couple of weeks. At first he'd flush and spin on his heels making excuses about dishes or laundry or work. After a while he wouldn't flee but he still colored. But in the last couple of days, when she'd catch him staring at her chest or her belly or her hips he'd meet her eyes and smile. Like he knew something she didn't. Had her body really changed that much?

She'd been wearing fewer of her button down blouses since they didn't seem to want to close properly but her slacks still fastened satisfactorily. She didn't know what to make of his new attentions but he always seemed to be looking at her.

He pulled her back to him when he'd mentioned breakfast and bacon. As it turned out their zoo-keeper really did have a taste for meat. She'd read about pregnancy cravings but she really didn't expect them so soon nor had she ever considered she'd be unable to resist them. But he'd said "bacon" and she flicked the sheets back and followed him, night-gowned and barefooted, into the kitchen.

Her new-found love of meat products amused him to no end. She swiped several slices off the paper towel covered plate anyway and munched happily as she leaned up against the counter. "Our appointment is at eight. I tried for earlier but that's the first of the day."

He shook his head and swallowed a sip of coffee, "That's fine. I don't have anywhere to be until ten."

"What do you have? Do we have a case?" She couldn't keep the excitement out of her voice. She hadn't been out in the field in a couple of weeks and they'd wrapped their last case over a week before.

He chuckled, "No. I'm helping Krantz with his thing."

"Oh." She sounded disappointed, even to herself.

"Don't worry. We live in D.C. _Something_ will come up."

She eyed his coffee longingly. He was still a stickler over her caffeine consumption but when he followed the track of her eyes to his cup he looked between it and her several times before he finally sighed and held it up to her, "Okay, okay, I'll share."

She felt like a child who'd been given permission to stay up past bed time and smiled then crossed to him and took the mug out of his hands and took a grateful sip. She didn't relinquish it immediately, though, and he had to wrestle it back out of her hands. She fixed her face into the pout that always seemed to earn her _that_ look and grinned when he didn't disappoint. But he didn't give the coffee back either.

She gave his watch a quick glance – it was only seven. They were both early risers and it was a fifteen minute trip to the doctor's office. That meant she had at least a half hour of sitting at her dining room table with him, him dressed in a suit and she still wearing her nightie, stealing his coffee, eating a breakfast he'd prepared and reading the paper. Something about that felt oddly intimate to her. And it wasn't, she noted with ambiguity, the first time she'd had such a thought since he'd moved in.

A piece of bacon dropped onto the satin on her chest and she looked down to scoop it up before it damaged the fabric. She realized then, sometime since he'd moved in she'd stopped caring about preserving her modesty. At first she'd tried to tempt him. She'd wanted him, badly, during those first couple of weeks after they'd found out she was pregnant. As the weeks progressed, though, her sexual desire had melted into an unnerving mix of sexual cravings and something else she was hard pressed to identify. She couldn't quite define what she wanted but she had a feeling it was leaning more toward what he demanded from a sexual partner and she flashed back to a night when he'd had darkness in his eyes and had said " _when"_ they made love.

She'd touched him a lot then. She'd always touched him a lot, as he had her. It seemed like lately the only touching they'd been doing was when she melted down into some strange version of herself. She wanted that easy familiarity back. She'd never have imagined it might go away if they spent more time together.

Unknowingly, he pulled her out and away from thought that would likely lead her down another road like last Tuesday's when he said, "We should leave a little early. I want to stop by my place and get the mail. And I'm going to need my good blue suit, there's a funeral this week."

"Are we riding in together?" It seemed like they did, more often than not. And it didn't really matter to her. He drove everywhere on their cases and once she was at the lab, if it wasn't for him, she'd not leave in the middle of the day anyway.

He shrugged. "Sure. Why not?"

"Hmm," she agreed as she took another sip of his coffee.

"Woman," he said playfully, as if he knew it would earn him reproach, "enough." And he, again, removed his coffee cup from her thieving fingers.

He opened the dishwasher and pulled out the top bin while simultaneously flipping open the cabinet for the glasses. Together they sent all the clean dishes to their homes and she found herself amazed, a little, by the fact he didn't have to ask where a single item went. She should have expected as much from him, though, with his attention to detail and ability to surprise her with the things that mattered to him.

She'd left him to the rest of his morning puttering, he seemed to do _a lot_ in the mornings before leaving for work, and went to shower and dress. He'd come for her a while later when she was putting the last touches on her makeup. "We're going to be late if we don't go now."

"Why do you always wait until we're going to be late to tell me it's time to go?"

"Sparing myself the "Booth, I'm a self-sufficient woman" lecture you roll out on occasion, I guess." She looked up into the vanity mirror and noticed the sparkle in his eyes. She _did_ trot that one out fairly regularly.

He watched her for a few moments then prompted, "Well, come on." He'd herded her towards the front door and helped her on with her jacket. "I had to park a block and a half away. Parking here really sucks, you know."

She felt bad when he said that. In her bedroom, in a drawer, under a book, were the parking decals she'd procured. She could give them to him. It would make his day when he realized she'd thought about him. She wanted to give them to him but how to do it without turning into a sycophant who begged him to stay with her? That would require some thought.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

He'd left her alone long enough to change out of her clothes and into the white and blue papery-cotton garment provided by Dr. Ashbacher's office. She'd poked her head out into the hall when she was done and invited him in to the examination room. She looked at ease, if a little excited, but all the posters on the wall of the female reproductive system and fetal development along with the plastic cut-away model of the birth canal left him slightly queasy.

"Booth, you're staring." He'd felt himself blush at being caught staring at a poster that perfectly depicted the baby's descent through the pelvic girdle. He wondered then, if when it was time, he'd be allowed in the room. And, if he was, would he be expected to watch the baby…come out?

"Sorry," he finally said, "but it's a little fascinating. Creepy, but fascinating."

"Creepy," she asked with a smirk. "Honestly, Booth, there's very little about the birthing process people would call "creepy"."

"Not in the "oh, scary" sort of way," he clarified. She was reclining on something that looked like a cross between a chair and a hospital bed. There were stirrups and a section that looked like it would fall away at the touch of the correct lever. He felt as if he'd entered a secret lair men should be denied access to.

"You look very uncomfortable. Would you like to wait in the waiting room?"

No, he wouldn't. He wanted to hear his baby's heartbeat and see its grainy, practically unidentifiable picture on the screen. He wanted to be one of those incredibly annoying expectant fathers who stopped the other agents in the hall at the Hoover Building and shoved pictures, which were upside down, into the hands of their coworkers. "I'm staying."

She shrugged. "Whatever you want." A moment later there was a knock at the door and Brennan called out, "Come in."

A nurse bustled into the room carrying a clipboard. She was pleasant and smiled when Booth shook her hand. She weighed Brennan, took her blood pressure and temperature and asked how she'd been feeling. Brennan recounted her battles with morning sickness, lightheadedness and mood-swings but Booth felt like she'd left out some of the most compelling examples of her symptoms. When she'd said "mild mood swings" he'd actually snorted and she shot him what he'd come to think of as her "death glare".

"I can see daddy's been bearing the brunt of the mood changes," the nurse said with a conspiratorial smile. Booth took a step back until he was out of Brennan's line of sight and rolled his eyes while nodding emphatically.

He was a little taken aback when Brennan smacked him, hard, on his belly and he looked down to see she was looking up and back at him. He knit his brow and formed his mouth into and "o" while rubbing the place she'd hit.

The nurse took them through the rest of the exam and then suddenly Brennan's gown was being raised until her stomach was exposed. He watched in fascination as the nurse squeezed an opaque blue gel onto Brennan's stomach then pressed the sonogram wand into the goop. He waited for the "woosh" sound he knew to expect. And suddenly, there it was.

His knees threatened to give out as he listened to the sound of their baby's heartbeat fluttering inside Brennan. _She_ had an awed look on her face. "See?" he whispered. "Some things you can't just read about, you have to experience."

And when her eyes had teared up he handed her his grandfather's handkerchief. He'd accepted the printed out screenshots and she'd let him stare at them. It wasn't until they were back in the SUV, her next appointment card tucked into the side pocket of her purse, that she'd gently removed the photographs from his grasp.

He'd tried several times to engage her in conversation between the doctor's office and the Jeffersonian but she was enamored and it made his heart swell. He wasn't entirely sure it felt real to her until the heartbeat had filled the room. If he were being completely honest it hadn't really been to him either. She'd not had an easy first twelve weeks but all of a sudden her eyes told him it was worth it.

He pulled into a parking spot in the garage and let the engine idle.

"He looks like a baby," she said with wonder and passed one of the pictures over to him. "He's still so tiny I hardly know he's in there, but look at him, Booth. He's a baby."

His throat thickened with emotion. "Yeah." Suddenly she'd leaned across and hugged him tight. He hugged her back, but the angle was awkward and he needed her right up next to him. He pulled back from her and jumped out of the truck. He was around to her side before the look of confusion had completely set. But he'd seen her confusion soften into a smile just before he tucked her back up against him. Her arms circled around his waist and they'd just held each other.

"That was incredible," she said against his neck. "Intellectually you know how fast a baby's heart beats but _hearing_ it."

He still couldn't get over the reverence in her voice. Neither of them could say much, it seemed, but he felt like they were speaking volumes. _Their baby_ , on that screen. _Her heartbeat_ , in that room. He pulled back from her and her eyes were huge on his. He tried forming words in his head but it didn't matter what he came up with it just didn't seem like _enough_.

Then, when he'd taken just a split second to blink, she'd kissed him. She was soft and sweet against his mouth tasting vaguely of the peppermints she'd taking to carrying around. Her lips slanted against his as she changed her angle and a shiver ran through him.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

She'd initiated the kiss when nothing she could think to say could really tell him how she was feeling. But as soon as she'd tilted her head for a better angle she'd lost control of the kiss. It heated quickly and what she'd originally intended to be a communication of one kind quickly turned into communication of another. He nipped at her lips playfully in between heart rending intimate connections and the dichotomy threatened to unbalance her.

Her hands seemed to have a mind of their own and they ran up through his hair and back down across his shoulders, met once at the small of his back and caressed his chest. She didn't remember moving but suddenly she found herself pressed up against the SUV, the cold metal behind her leeched the warmth of his body from her front and she shivered with the sensation.

It occurred to her then that the kiss wasn't really a kiss anymore. He was _ravaging_ her mouth. The word had always made her giggle when she read it in print and she realized it was because she'd never truly understood it. She gasped when one of his hands ghosted along the sensitive hollow under her hip bone and he'd flicked his tongue against her top lip in an invitation she couldn't turn down.

Before she could adequately prepare herself, his tongue was sliding sensuously across hers then running along the sharp edges of her molars. He tasted of coffee and cinnamon gum and she thought maybe she'd never get enough of that particular combination.

Then he was dragging his mouth from hers and pressing their foreheads together. They'd gotten carried away, she thought, when she realized they were both panting. What had started as a way for them to celebrate what they'd just experienced in the doctor's office had quickly turned into something entirely different.

She pressed her head back into the glass of the back passenger window. She looked into his eyes hoping to find answers to "why" and "will we do that again" but all she heard was his harsh panting, the gentle purr of the truck's engine and the annoying ding from the steering column reminding them the engine was running and doors were open.

He saw the exact moment she started to withdraw from him and he sighed against her ear. But his sigh turned to a chuckle as he said, "Sorry. Got a little carried away."

His heart soared when she breathlessly said, "Me too."

"I've got to get to the office." He pressed the picture he was still clutching into her hand. "Take this one too. Nobody at _my_ office knows yet."

"That sounds like sour grapes, Booth," she said saucily.

He couldn't help it. He growled a little in the way he found usually made women shiver and dropped another quick kiss to her lips. She didn't disappoint him. He felt the tremor run through her where his hands rested on her hips. "Two weeks. Then I'm forcing everybody there to look at almost-baby-pictures."

She laughed. "You're probably not going to be nearly as popular with the secretarial pool, then, you know."

He regarded her carefully. What was she looking for? "I'm popular with the people that matter, that's all I need." He held his breath waiting for her response. She nodded as if he'd said something right and he exhaled. "I've really got to go. Dinner tonight? I'll even take you to that frou-frou vegetarian place you like."

She smiled. "That sounds nice."

"Six thirty. Have a good day."

"You too." They stood there staring at each other until she finally shifted uncomfortably and said, "You'll probably need to let go of me."

He huffed out a nervous breath. "Yeah. Okay, I'm gone. See you at six thirty."

Later that day she'd handed the sonogram photos over to Angela. "This is why you were late today," her friend asked. "I just figured you and Booth finally decided to get it on."

Brennan flushed at the memory of just what she and Booth had gotten up to in the parking garage and she wondered whether or not she should share that with Angela or keep it for herself. She knew Angela would want to know but it felt wrong to share. Finally, though, her mouth made the decision for her and she blurted out, "I kissed Booth."

Angela looked at her like she was a little insane. "I know," she said slowly, "you told me. You two kissed when you found out you were pregnant."

"No," Brennan huffed, "I mean I kissed him today. Why would I tell you about something I'd already told you about?"

Angela shook her head, "Never mind. You kissed Booth _today_? Where?"

"On the mouth," Brennan said as if it should be obvious.

Angela laughed, "No, Sweetie, I meant where _geographically_."

"Oh. In the Parking Garage. Why? Does it matter?"

"Yes, it matters!"

Brennan couldn't see how it could possibly matter but her friend was insistent. She recounted the whole of the encounter and finally Angela said, "How you can possibly still say there's nothing between you is completely beyond me. You two clearly want each other. You're having a baby together. And you were right about him always being around. I drove by your place three times last week and his truck was always there."

Brennan colored. She'd long been considering Booth a resident of her apartment – even if it did cause the occasional emotional breakdown – but she'd yet to share that information with anyone else. She hadn't even said anything to him about it aside from her outburst the week before when he'd asked her if she wanted him to go.

She struggled with his presence. She'd found she really did want him around. She knew she wasn't ready for him to go. She just couldn't really figure out why. She was perfectly capable of taking care of herself and she'd always liked having her own space – even when in relationships. But, she reminded herself, what she was doing with Booth wasn't really a relationship. She's not entirely sure how he felt. Although, if the kiss they'd shared that morning was anything to go by, perhaps there was some talking to be done.

Brennan decided the only good response to Angela's observation was a nod.

"Hopefully," Angela said with a wink, "recent changes mean things will soon be heating up with Special Agent Who's-A-Hottie."

"I have to admit I'm not longer certain exactly where his line is."

Angela turned serious. "You've got to talk to him. It's time, Bren. You guys have made this huge change to your relationship but you haven't talked about what it means for later. What's going to happen when the baby's born?"

"I don't know."

"Talk to him," her friend stressed. "You're one of the few women out there with a man who will really talk about the way he feels. Take advantage of it. Booth won't ever make you guess but he _will_ make you ask. It sounds like it's time to take a leap of faith."

Over dinner that night she'd tried, several times, to work up the courage to talk to him about anything on the growing list of things she needed to discuss with him. After several false starts he'd finally said, "You seem like you've got something big on your mind. But I'm going to need a little more help deciphering the subject than four or five false starts."

She nodded. "I have been thinking about a few things." She looked everywhere she could but at him and evidently her evasiveness was noticed. He reached an encouraging hand across the table and brushed his fingers against the wrist that was fiddling with her stemmed water glass. "I just...Booth we _kissed_ this morning. Not like we've kissed before, either, and I'm not sure what that means."

He sighed heavily as if he knew it was going to come up but he wasn't yet ready to talk about it either. "We did."

She'd expected an "I didn't mean to let it go that far" or maybe even a joke of some kind but not his quiet acknowledgement. "And," she continued, "you appear to have moved in." She rushed to continue, "Not that I'm asking you to leave, but we never really talked about it. But you've been there nearly a month now and I wasn't sure what your intentions were."

He exhaled through pursed lips. "You have had some stuff on your mind, haven't you?"

"Yes."

"Anything else?"

"Well, what's going to happen after the baby comes?"

"Bones, you've got some issues there that can probably be called big, bigger and biggest. You really want to get involved in them all over dinner?"

She thought about it and finally shook her head. "No, but I think we do need to talk about them. Angela said I should consider myself lucky you're the kind of guy who is willing to talk about things like this, though. So I thought maybe I'd take advantage of it. I'm not, however, very good at talking about such things."

"Well let's just agree we need to talk. Let's think about it, both of us, and figure out what we're really thinking and feeling. I don't want to start arguments here because we're not sure what's going on."

"That sounds very reasonable."

"It's not...I don't know, Bones. I'm not sure I'd use "reasonable" here. There's going to be very little reason involved in issues that are mostly emotional."

"I study change, Booth. The change in societies and cultures is something I can identify and see the necessity of. But _we're_ changing and I'm still not certain how I feel about that. What we had worked. But this seems to be working too."

"I don't think we've changed as much as you think we have."

"You never would have kissed me like that before," she pointed out.

"Yeah, I would've," he said quietly. "But I couldn't. Now I can."

"But why now?"

"Finish your dinner. We'll talk about all of it. But just remember, while you're thinking, what I said about us not changing as much as _you_ think we have. Find out what that statement means to you."

She thought over the course of dinner, the drive home, and through Wednesday and Thursday she didn't see much of him. By Friday she realized she'd spent more time thinking about how she _felt_ than she had in years. She'd been home several hours that night when he'd finally come in looking as if he'd collapse if he had to take even one more step.

She'd sat on the couch and watched as he walked by her with a quick, "hi" and a squeeze of her shoulder, into his bedroom. Five minutes later he'd reappeared and then disappeared into the bathroom. She heard the shower start and she sat and waited until shut off. A few minutes after that he'd come out dressed in navy blue sweatpants and turned as if to go back to his bedroom.

"Booth?" she called. He looked over at her and raised his eyebrows with question. "Would you come in here, please?" He was incredibly tired, she could tell, but he didn't resist and he didn't seem at all upset she'd asked. "Sit down," she said patting the space on the couch next to her. He did and she stared at him until the corners of his mouth quirked up in uncomfortable amusement.

She'd been stalled by him when he sat. He smelled like Irish Spring soap and the broad expanse of his bare chest filled her view. She reached a tentative hand up to his chest and jumped when his pectoral muscle flinched at her touch. She chuckled nervously but he remained still and quiet. She didn't know what to say, wasn't sure how she'd explain her hypothesis or experiment so instead she tilted forward from her hips until her lips hovered in front of his.

They stayed there, suspended in limbo for the span of four quickening heartbeats before he'd finally closed the last shred of distance between them. She'd intended to just kiss him, softly, to find out if her reaction to him on Tuesday was an anomaly. She quickly discovered it wasn't. She opened her mouth to him and he swept inside. His kiss was gentle and unhurried but also tender and questing. And before either of them seemed aware, he'd leaned forward into her space and forced her to arch until one of his hands supported her at her lower back and the other was palm-flat on the couch and stiff armed to create a frame of empty space between his body and the couch for her to fill.

He kissed her breathless but remained calm and diligent taking long, reassuring breaths through his nose so finally she was the one who'd had to break the kiss. "That tell you anything?"

Of course he'd have known what she was up to, she reflected. He knew her. Knew the way her brain worked. "Yes," she'd said simply.

"Good." He pressed one more kiss to her lips, got up and disappeared into his bedroom. She remained on the couch, lost in thought.

Later that night when she laid in bed she thought about him, the way he looked and smelled sitting there bare-chested in front of her on the couch. Then, the way he'd tasted. She felt a rush of arousal spread through her body. She'd wanted him for a while but hadn't been successful with her attempts at seduction weeks before. She still fought powerful waves of arousal she knew were caused by the hormones her body was producing in excess.

She'd _tried_ , several times even, to find release. Alone. In her bed at night before he'd moved in and after. She was a woman who'd long ago perfected her technique of bring herself to orgasm but nothing had worked. She'd been frustrated so long. But that night, with the memory of the kiss they'd shared on the couch as well as the one in the parking garage she tried again.

She swept her hands lightly over her incredibly sensitive breasts, careful to avoid the pain she knew would follow a heavy hand, down her body to the apex of her thighs. She could feel heat there before she even touched her skin. And when she'd touched herself she'd found herself wet and ready, swollen with the flush of desire. She didn't need any technique at all that night because she'd barely begun to circle her aching clit with a deft finger when she spun apart.

She'd cried out her release, she knew she had. She waited, anxiously, to find out if her cry brought him running to her aid. But, it didn't. Perhaps he'd slept through it. Perhaps he'd identified it for what it was. She couldn't be sure. But part of her, a part she wasn't familiar with, was embarrassed. She'd needed that climax, she had. She'd been on slow boil for weeks and the kisses they'd shared the past few days had done nothing but create a thrumming between her legs that wouldn't abate. However, he might know what she'd just done. Would he look at her differently then?

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Booth lay in bed reflecting on what had turned into an incredibly long and busy week. He worked late that night to ensure that short of a new case being assigned he'd have nothing in particular to do over the weekend. He was ready for a break. A couple of days of ballgames and beer.

And Bones. If what had happened on her couch that night was going to keep happening he'd be a happy man. Sexually frustrated, perhaps, but happy. Then he'd heard her moan long and low and he'd been out of bed and to his door when he heard her cry out. He knew that sound even if he'd never heard it from her. That was completion. Satisfaction. Relief. He smiled, hand on his bedroom door knob, amused by what she'd done just one room away. But the more he though about it the more he found himself in a predicament of his own.

He found himself painfully hard when he settled back into bed. She had a way of doing that to him. He'd spook her for sure if he took the matter into his own hands and didn't manage to be quiet. She'd know what he was doing. He was sure she knew he did it. She'd probably be down right clinical about the whole thing as well. But underneath she'd shy away from him if she knew his response to overhearing her was the need to do the same himself – she'd long ago proven what was _normal_ didn't necessarily apply to them. So he willed his erection away and laced his fingers behind his head in an effort to keep them off his aching cock.

The next morning when they met in the kitchen he saw a flicker of inquiry in her eye but he paid it no mind and set about making pancakes.

By Monday he felt as if he was going to explode. He'd overheard her coming, he could deal with that. But evidently her release had made her bolder. Sunday morning she'd opened the windows in the living room and settled cross legged on the couch to write on her lap top. She hadn't bothered to change out of her silky nightgown, though he was glad to see that one flowed all the way to the floor. But in the cool springtime air she'd encouraged into the room her nipples had beaded up. He'd stood there for long minutes staring at her. He was a grown man, for crying out loud! Since when had hardened nipples, covered ones at that, required minutes after minutes of attention?

So yes, by Monday he'd gladly bid her goodbye before they'd left separately for work. He, for his part, escaped to the privacy of his apartment where he'd picked up mail, cleaned out the last remnants of the refrigerator and then, despite trying to abstain, jacked off furiously in his bedroom. He'd had no need for lubricant and hadn't even bothered with the pretense of pulling out his magazines.

When he came it had been her picture behind his eyes and her name on his lips. _Soon_ , he thought then, he had to have her soon. But first he had to convince her what was between them was more than sex. It could never be _just_ sex. He was starting to get the feeling, though, she thought the very same thing.


	14. Week 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: I'm a bad little Nano-novelist. I'm behind. Really, really behind on my word count for Nano. My solution to the problem? Write Forty Weeks. Here's the product...

" _He may be entranced by your ripening breasts and belly."_

She'd surprised him Tuesday night when she'd emerged from her bedroom, fresh from a bath and dressed more of her silky sleepwear – a camisole and shorts sort of number that was infinitely easier for him to handle than the little baby doll nightgowns she generally favored. She'd surprised him because he realized he could see the swell of her belly when she'd take a step. She was no longer flat and smooth. There was a definite bump there. She'd stopped walking when she realized he was studying her and just stood there beneath the heavy weight of his gaze.

He realized then that she hadn't been flat and smooth for several weeks, not really, though the changes had been minute. But overnight, it seemed, she had bloomed with pregnancy.

"What is it?" His stare must have finally gotten to her.

"You look pregnant." He knew he sounded reverent but he was getting used to that tone in his voice where she and his baby were concerned.

"I know," she laughed, "it's like it happened while I was sleeping."

"I want to see." The reverent tone had all but been abandoned for something rougher, gruffer and extremely indicative of the instant arousal he felt at seeing the new edges of her silhouette.

She cocked her head to the side as if trying to figure out exactly what she heard in his voice but he carefully masked what he knew was obvious lust in his eyes. She must not have found anything she felt required investigation because she stepped up in front of him, closer, he thought, than she really needed to, and raised the top of her ensemble to show the gentle roundness she'd developed.

Without the barrier of her clothing he could see how much she'd changed since he'd last asked for a peek of her naked belly five weeks before. "How did I miss this?" he whispered as he placed a palm on the upper part of the swell. His fingers tucked into the sleek fabric where it was bunched below her breasts. She wasn't a small woman, by any means, but he sometimes forgot the difference in their sizes. It was hard to deny his much more masculine proportions when his tanned hand on her ivory stomach covered so much space.

"You usually see me dressed," she reasoned. "Although, I see myself naked everyday and I didn't really notice until today."

"Hm." He caressed the smooth skin she'd exposed to him but found himself struggling with a growing and very insistent desire. He'd finally reached up and tugged her top back down into place before he embarrassed himself.

Later on that night they'd been sitting on the couch. She was reading term papers and marking them with the clichéd red pen and he'd supposedly been watching Larry King. What he'd really been watching was her breasts as she breathed. They'd grown quite a bit since she'd been pregnant and she'd yet to buy, to his knowledge, any new clothing. She was threatening to burst out of most of her nightwear.

Shit. He needed to get his head out of the gutter where she was concerned. She was his partner. His friend. The mother of his unborn child. Incredibly sexy and ripening with pregnancy. He stood up abruptly. She looked up at him with a curious expression on her face. "I've got to run over to the office. I forgot to do something."

She nodded but looked confused. "Do you want me to go with you?"

"No, no," he'd waved her off. "You're not...you know...dressed. I'll just go and come right back. Do you need anything while I'm gone?"

She shook her head still looking confused.

"Okay, I'll be back."

He picked up his keys and cell phone from the bowl by the door and escaped. Halfway down the stairs he flipped open his phone and scrolled through the address book to the only male friend he was surprised to find he really had. "Hodgins, let's go have a beer."

Hodgins met him at a Billy Martin's Tavern at the corner of Wisconsin and N. That time on a Tuesday night the dinner crowd was starting to thin and stragglers sat at the bar. Booth was already sitting at the bar nursing a pint of Guinness.

"Hey, Man, how's it going?" Hodgins slid into the seat next to Booth and flagged down the bartender. "I'll take a pint of Guinness and a shot of Cutty." He turned his attention back to Booth. "What's got you out and drinking on a Tuesday night?"

"Bones is pregnant." Booth took a generous sip of his beer.

Hodgins laughed. "Yeah, but we've known about that for a while."

"No, I mean you can _tell_ she's pregnant now."

"I don't know about that," Hodgins said clearly reviewing the mental pictures he had of Brennan. "I haven't really noticed."

"I have. Her clothes hide it pretty well."

Hodgins quirked an eyebrow at him. "You trying to say it's not hard to tell when she's _not_ wearing any clothes?"

Booth picked up on the inference. "I'm not sleeping with her. It's just..." He paused while trying to figure out how to say what he was trying to say without revealing he'd practically moved in with her. "She wears things when she's at home that make it easier to tell. And she showed me tonight."

"And you're what? Disgusted by the fact she's getting fat?"

Booth knew Hodgins was goading him but he couldn't help but rise to the bait. "God, no. She's gorgeous. And I..."

"Look, all kidding aside, you and Dr. B have something going on that you're either not telling the rest of us about or that you two are being two stubborn to acknowledge. You've got that "I impregnated a woman" look all over you. You know, that half-goofy, testosterone filled look of someone who's incredibly proud of himself. Clearly she's got you all hot and bothered."

"I'm not "hot and bothered"," Booth groused.

"Dude, you so completely are. You're sitting in a bar with me on Tuesday night because your woman's barefoot and pregnant and you can't do anything fun about it."

"Oh, I could do it, all right," Booth said under his breath and earning him a curious look from Hodgins. Louder he said, "And she's not my woman."

"Yeah," Hodgins snorted and knocked back his shot of whisky, "okay." He chased his shot with a gulp of Guinness and said casually, "Angie says you two are just a couple hormone induced moments away from jumping each other. Which, if you ask me, is going about everything ass-fucking backwards."

"I didn't ask you." Booth picked up on the Angela reference and asked, "When were you and Angie talking about me and Bones?"

"Ange and I are more fucked up than you and Dr. B, no doubt about it."

"That didn't answer my question."

"She's been over a few nights since Brennan dropped her pregnancy bomb. It got her thinking, I guess."

"You guys are gonna—"

"No. Hell, I don't know. But if practice makes perfect..."

"Shit. I didn't need to know." He grinned. "But I can't be I'd upset to see the two of you get back together."

Hodgins raised his hands in defeat, "I don't know if that's where we're headed. I'm not sure if what went wrong before can keep from being an issue this time. But at least she's really talking to me again."

"Yeah. I get that."

"So what are you going to do about Brennan?"

"I dunno. Every time I think I know what to do she surprises the hell out of me and throws a kink in the plans. _She_ actually told me last week we had some things to talk about. She's supposed to be thinking. But she thinks so damn fast I can't always tell when it's happening."

"If she told you she'd think about something, she will. And no, you probably won't be able to tell. So," he switched gears, "she showed you tonight?"

"Yeah. Yesterday you couldn't tell and today you could. It was amazing."

"So she's really starting to show, huh?"

Booth nodded and took another drink of his beer. "Yeah. Not a lot, but if you knew before and after you'd definitely be able to tell."

"And you've got before and after knowledge of Dr. B's naked stomach?" Hodgins just wasn't going to let that go.

"Jack, geez, she and I are having a baby together. Why is it news I might know what she looked liked before and after?"

"Because you two are the royal parents of "no, there's nothing going on"." He said the last in a childlike, innocent sounding voice. He cleared his throat back into its normal register. "You still maintain there's nothing going on?"

"I'll admit that I don't know what's going on. How's that?"

"Good enough for me." He flagged down the bartender. "We'll take another round down here!"

By the time he made it home he figured Brennan would be in bed. But when he walked in the door she was sitting on the couch doing, of all things, cross stitch. "Since when do you cross stitch?"

"Since when do you feel like you have to lie to me about where you're going?" she snapped back. "I'm not your wife; you certainly don't answer to me." She calmly made a few more stitches. "Angela called about an hour ago to ask me if I'd heard from you or Hodgins. Apparently there's poor cell reception in Billy Martin's Tavern." She laid her work down in her lap. "God, Booth, why wouldn't you just tell me you were going to have a beer with Hodgins? That doesn't make any sense."

He didn't want to sit down on the couch. She looked really upset. "I didn't know that's where I was going until I'd left."

"You were so anxious to get away you made something up? That's not like you. And it's not like I'm holding you hostage here. _You_ moved in."

"I didn't _move in_." It sounded like a feeble argument, even to him. He sat down on the arm of couch nearest where she was seated. "It's just…look, I'm not sure I can talk about this right now."

"Did I do something?" she asked in a rare display of self-consciousness.

"God, Bones, no." He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "You didn't do anything. I'm just…I guess I'm doing some of the same thinking you are."

"Oh," she said quietly.

"And anyway, since when _do_ you cross stitch?"

The following day she wore a blouse that drove him to distraction. It was a fluttery, flowing sort of thing that rested gently over her newly formed bump. When she'd turned her back to him to prepare hot tea at the stove he could have sworn her hips had widened. Just a little. But, he reasoned, he'd spent enough time staring at her hips and ass over the last several years to notice the smallest of changes. Then she'd bent over to get something out of the bottom cabinet and he nearly burst the fly of his slacks.

Things were getting ridiculous. She'd given him a funny look when he made his escape which made him wonder if she'd noticed his predicament. She didn't spend a whole lot of time studying his belt buckle, did she? He'd made it out of her apartment without further incident but it was close. Every time he got some grasp of control over his traitorous body she'd walk right back into his line of vision and he'd have to start all over again.

That day he bought her a gift. He handed it over in the Macy's bag and she'd looked at him a little funny but reached inside. She pulled out flannel pajamas – the kind that was pants and a button down top. Shapeless. Sexless. "Booth?"

"I just thought you'd find them comfortable."

He could have sworn he saw her smirk. But that night she'd worn them and he'd managed to make it all the way through Anderson Cooper 360. Then he'd looked at her. Really looked at her. Fresh faced and pony-tailed in what looked like they could have been his pajamas… She looked like a co-ed and he was a goner all over again.

Then when the Larry King repeat had come on at midnight she'd stood and said she was going to bed. While she stood there they talked and she rested a hand on her belly, the same way he'd seen hundreds of pregnant women do. He hadn't realized it was subconscious. He'd always thought they were drawing attention to their pregnancy. But watching Brennan do it he realized it wasn't an on-purpose thing at all.

Thursday evening she'd had to dress to go to an event for the Anthropology department at Georgetown. At some point she must have bought a new dress. It was gold and rust and shimmery and gathered right below her breasts and flowed out and around her slight swell. For the most part it masked her pregnancy, but when she turned and stood just right, it accentuated it. She was beautiful, though if he had to admit it, she always was. She'd completed her look with killer heels that made him think less about her _being_ pregnant and more about ways he could make her that way again.

"And you're sure you can't go," she asked him one more time before leaving.

"Yeah. Sorry, Bones, but Rebecca's going out of town and I'm picking Parker up tonight." She started to open her mouth to speak but he cut her off. "And no, I really don't think Parker would enjoy the event either so I'm not bringing him along."

"Fine," she'd pouted sexily.

He resisted the urge to kiss the pout right off her face. Though, in hindsight, he's not sure why he resisted. It's not like they hadn't shared a few steamier kisses already. At the thought he felt his dick begin to stiffen and he realized that kissing her would probably be a very bad idea.

Friday morning was a bit of a circus what with getting Parker up and ready for school. Booth had slept the previous night on the couch knowing his son would rest better if he'd had the bed to himself. Booth woke up tired and cranky with a sore back. Brennan's couch really wasn't made for sleeping. Parker, however, was bouncing happily around Bones' kitchen getting syrupy fingerprints on every surface he touched. Bones, for her part, was laughing at a story about a first grader and doing a fantastic job of ignoring the fingerprints that had to be driving her crazy.

Then his cell phone rang and Cullen demanded his presence ten minutes before he'd actually placed the call. Bones surprised the hell out of him by telling him to go, she'd take Parker to school before she went in to work. He had the urge to hug her so he did and when Parker ran off to grab his book bag out of the bedroom Booth had pressed a quick but hot kiss to her lips. Had she been a lover he'd have called it a kiss of promise, but she wasn't. So he didn't.

She'd called him at eleven thirty about lunch but he couldn't get away and he'd called her again at two thirty to find out if she could possibly pick Parker up as well. She'd surprised him again by agreeing whole-heartedly and not saying a word about work or interruption of her time at the lab. She'd told him she'd take Parker back to the Jeffersonian and asked if she could leave him with the after school program that met in the work rooms of the museum. He'd agreed and they made plans to meet at the diner for dinner.

He was halfway through a late afternoon meeting when he realized he'd forgotten what it felt like to have a family and he damn well enjoyed it. He flipped open the cover of the notepad he carried around to meetings and inside he found one of the sonogram photos. He knew he didn't tape it to the cover. Had she? That just didn't seem like something she'd do. But no one else could have. It made him smile and he couldn't help but stare at the photo. Cullen, who was sitting next to him, leaned over and before Booth could close the notebook his boss had recognized the picture for what it was. Guess that time, Booth thought, he was the one who got busted.

Cullen cornered Booth in the agent's office as he was trying to get his desk together so he could meet Bones and Parker for dinner. "Either you're a medical miracle or you've gotten some poor girl into trouble." Cullen's words were crass but the older man stood in the office doorway with a smile on his face.

"Would you believe medical miracle," Booth asked hopefully.

"Not a chance." Cullen wandered in and sat in one of the visitor's chairs. "Now, Son, you don't _have_ to tell me who it is, but…"

"I'm not supposed to say anything until she's in her second trimester."

"Yeah, women can be funny about that."

"Tell me about it." Booth reclined and put his feet up on his desk.

"It's not Rebecca, is it?" The slight distaste in his voice wasn't lost on Booth but he understood Cullen's dislike for her. Rebecca, a little over imbibed at the FBI Christmas party about nine years previous had read Cullen the riot act over a promotion Booth had passed on. She'd been under the impression Cullen had overlooked him. And what could have been a question and answer session quickly escalated into Rebecca publicly dressing Cullen down.

"No sir, it's not Rebecca."

Cullen groaned. "Is it Dr. Brennan? Please tell me it's not Dr. Brennan."

"Well, I could…" Booth drawled.

"But you'd be lying," Cullen deduced.

Booth nodded his head. "Yeah."

"Well, we're going to have enough to talk about on the subject," Cullen said standing. "So for now I'll just say congratulations."

"Thank you. And if you could—"

"Don't worry about it Booth. I'm not telling a soul."

It had been after ten thirty when he'd finally got Parker to fall asleep. That's when he broke the news that Cullen knew about her pregnancy. Predictably her first worry was whether or not their partnership would be dissolved. He answered with an honest, "I don't know." Then she'd wanted to know why he'd told Cullen. "I didn't," he sat down on the couch and pulled her down next to him and then into his side, snaking an arm around her shoulders. "You did."

"I didn't!"

"Yes, you did. You taped the sonogram picture to my meeting notebook."

She groaned. "Oh, no. Yes, I did do that."

He chuckled. "That's not the sort of thing you'd normally do," he led.

"You're right. But you were enjoying the pictures so much I wanted to give you a bit of a surprise. I guess that wasn't a good idea."

"No," he kissed the crown of her head, "it was a great idea. I loved seeing it there."

They sat quietly for a few minutes when he realized her hands were traveling over him. Innocently enough, it seemed, but traveling nonetheless. But a touchy-feely Brennan meant she was having an amorous sort of night and with the way his thoughts had been headed all week he couldn't let her continue. He'd carefully shifted her away, said something about catching a shower and made his escape.

Saturday turned into another rainy day. Booth ran out to pick up the makings for microwave s'mores at Parker's insistence. When he'd arrived home the living room had been transformed. Brennan had moved the coffee table out of the way and unfolded the sleeper couch. There were pillows all over the bed she'd made up with plenty of quilts.

Parker who'd been dressed when Booth left was back in his pajamas and had made a nest in the middle of the quilts and blankets. "Hey Dad, Bones says we can have a movie day again since it's raining. But she says we have to be in our pajamas because it's more fun that way."

Brennan reappeared at the end of the hall dressed in the flannel pajamas he'd bought her. She pulled the grocery bag out of his arms. "Pajamas for you, too, Booth. If you want to watch movies with us, that is."

He was slightly dumbfounded. A pajama party movie marathon wasn't like her at all. But it was, however, like his eight year old son. So he gave her a smile and a wink and went to change into his own pajamas. In truth he generally slept in boxers but considering it wasn't pajama movie day at casa Booth, no girls allowed, he figured track pants and a t-shirt would be a better choice.

He'd made s'mores and hot chocolate and piled them on a tray with animal crackers and herbal tea and joined Brennan and Parker on the sofa bed. Once the three of them were settled Parker started the movie and the main titles for Milo & Otis appeared on the screen. He and Parker had both seen the movie about a dozen times before but Brennan appeared fascinated.

Booth couldn't concentrate on the movie. Not when the only thing that separated him from her was the small body of his son between them. He was aware of every breath she took, every tiny shift of her body, and every animal cracker she pilfered from the box on the tray that was balanced on her lap.

They watched two movies that way before Brennan demanded they eat some real food for lunch. And when they'd piled back up on the couch Parker had demanded Bones be in the middle. So they watched Chitty Chitty Bang Bang with her head resting in the hollow of his shoulder and Parker's small body lying crosswise with his head in her lap.

They worked their way through Labyrinth and then Cars as well, but every time she got up to pee, which she'd been doing an awful lot of in the past couple of weeks, she'd always settle back into his side when she returned. Pajama movie marathons, he decided, were much better at her place, one girl – maybe two, certainly allowed. He thought of what it would be like one day, another pajama movie marathon but with a daughter whose big brother would tease her mercilessly while she cried through Bambi forgetting he'd done the same only a handful of years before.

He hated to admit it, but he wanted a girl. Of course, more than anything he wanted a healthy baby, but all things being equal he'd love a daughter. He had visions of a tiny little version of Brennan who was quick to boss him around and tell him when he was wrong and it made him smile.

Brennan, it seemed, wanted a boy if her choice of pronouns was anything to go by. He'd asked her several times what she wanted and she always gave him the same answer: she hadn't yet decided. She'd argued that her use of the masculine pronoun was due to her scientific background and had nothing to do with her preference. What he couldn't figure out was _why_ she wanted a boy. Most women he knew wanted girls.

Parker was going to be so excited to find out he was going to be a big brother, Booth was sure of it. He'd given up asking but for several years he'd hounded both his parents about getting him a sibling. And Parker already knew what he wanted. He wanted a sister. Booth asked his son why and resisted the urge to tear up when his son answered, "So I can protect her."

Yeah, he had a good kid. And it appeared Brennan felt that way too. Sometime during the last movie the two had fallen asleep, Brennan's fingers still tangled in Parker's blonde mop where they hadn't completed that last pass she'd been making. It was important to him Brennan and Parker got along. It always had been. It was even more important, though, now that there was a baby on the way. It didn't seem as if he was going to have any trouble with the two of them.

Brennan shifted a little in his arms which caused Parker to shift so he moved them until Bones was curled into his right side, with a leg thrown over his thigh, and Parker curled into his left side. He kissed the tops of both their heads and joined them in their nap.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

When Brennan awoke the power was out. The storm that had been raging most of the day had finally taken its toll. She shifted and Booth's arm around her tightened. She realized he moved both she and Parker and the boy had turned, she imagined, at some point until he was curled up near the edge of the bed facing away from the adults.

A warm tingle worked its way up her body from her toes when she realized how entangled she and Booth had become in their sleep. She'd been fighting intense attraction to him all week. And evidently he her if his heated glances and quick exits were anything to go by. She stretched into wakefulness but the arch it produced through her back pushed her hips forward into his thigh. _That_ of course created the most delicious pressure against the spot she'd been studiously ignoring all week.

Experimentally she rocked against him again. Much more of that, she decided, and things could get out of hand in a hurry. She did it once more and promised herself no more but then, just one more time. She was hardly moving, but she glanced over to where Parker was sleeping just to ensure her insane antics hadn't roused him. They hadn't. She lifted her head to look at Booth and found his eyes open and curious on her. She'd been caught. Well, that was humiliating. She could feel herself blushing and hoped the darkened room hid her embarrassment.

She wasn't prepared for the slide of his hand down her back or the splayed fingers that pushed her back down and harder into him than she'd dared to do on her own. She opened her mouth unable to contain a gasp but he swallowed it, covering her mouth with his own. The kiss they shared was hot and wet as he continued to grind her into his thigh. God, if he didn't stop she was going to come. And it was neither the time nor place for any such involvement between them.

"Oh, God," she whispered against his lips, "stop, please stop."

The pleading tone of her voice must have reminded him where they were, _who_ they were because the pressure he'd been applying suddenly ceased. His hand, however, remained splayed against her lower back. She shifted her leg in an attempt to remove his thigh from between hers but she brushed against his erection and she instantly stilled. He was turned on? That quickly, by only a short moment of indiscretion?

She pushed herself up off him using his chest as leverage and fled to her bedroom. Had they really been doing that? The kisses they'd shared were one thing. Fantasies of him something else as well. But using his body the way she had, the way he'd encouraged her to...that was nothing of their relationship as she understood it. She'd known things were changing. They had been for a while. But what she'd done out there, that wasn't acceptable on any level.

How would she be able to face him after that?

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Booth flopped back onto the pillows she'd piled on the sleeper sofa. Son of a bitch, what had he done? He'd awoken when he heard the power go out. Apparently she had too because before he'd known it she was pressing herself into him, seeking her own pleasure. Then she'd stopped and all he wanted was for her to start again. So he'd encouraged her. Directed her movements. Kissed her the way he wanted to fuck her until _she'd_ been the one to remind him it was the wrong place and time for that. His son was in the bed for God's sakes. What had he been thinking?

There's not a doubt in his mind he could have made her come if they'd continued. She was ripe for it, that was certain. And he'd wanted to feel her detonate in his arms knowing he could do that to her without taking off her clothes, sliding his fingers inside her, using his mouth to tease her, without, even, thrusting deep into slick heat of her. He could have done it, he knew. But she'd have never forgiven him for it. He knew that too.

A little while after that Parker woke up then the power came back on. They'd made a late dinner and chatted but she wouldn't meet his eye. She was permanently blushed, it seemed, and while he found it becoming he felt bad she'd been so embarrassed. He may not like to _talk_ about sex but he wasn't a prude and he understood, probably better than she realized, the body wanting what the body wanted.

He knew she hadn't sex since before she'd gone out with Hacker. That had been over six months before. It could have been longer, he couldn't be sure. It had been a long time for him as well. A couple of years unless you counted a couple of late night, alcohol induced transgressions. Which he didn't. And Bones, well, she was nothing if not sexual. And with the hormones coursing through her system, he imagined she was like an always lit candle just waiting for that one breath to puff out the flames.

She was an observer by trade. She had to have noticed the looks he couldn't help but give her over the last week. She'd probably noticed the ones that came before as well. He'd been nothing but fuel to her fire. Not that she'd been much better for his. He would swear there were times she went out of her way to see if she could get a rise out of him.

She hadn't looked him in the eye at all on Sunday either and he was glad for the escape when it was time to take Parker home. He declined Rebecca's invitation for coffee and instead went to his gym where he forced himself to channel his energies into a long free weight work out and a seven mile jog.

By the time he returned to her apartment Sunday evening he really felt like he had himself under control enough to face her. What he found, though, was a note on the refrigerator. "Remains need immediate identification. I'll be at the Jeffersonian likely all night. I'll call to let you know."

She had called around eleven to let him know she was sleeping on the couch in her office that night, there were several more hours worth of work to be done. He'd argued with her, tried to tell her she needed more and better rest than the arrangement would allow but she wouldn't hear of it and had, much to his chagrin, started in on her, "Booth, I'm a self-sufficient woman" speech.

She'd begged off breakfast and lunch on Monday before he'd realized she was avoiding him. So he did the only thing he could. He guilted her. At six she'd called to tell him she was working late and he'd whined and wheedled about having made dinner until she'd finally relented and come home.

He waited in the kitchen figuring it would be better to let her come to him than to seek her out and spook her further. His patience was rewarded, however, because she'd walked in, straight to him and planted a kiss on him that left no doubt in his mind as to what she'd spent the last couple of days thinking about.

No way, he thought, was he going to be able to hold out long enough for her head and heart to start talking the same language. No way at all.


	15. Week 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: For what it's worth every place in the story I name specifically (that wasn't fabricated by the Bones writers) is real – as is the location I give you. You know, just in case you want to try any of the places out.
> 
> I was pleased to discover, when I checked the story stats, that this story is more popular than Slip and Fall. I can't thank you all enough – those that have added this to their alerts or favorites list. It's always nice to see people are interested. And your comments and reviews have been incredible. Everyone's been exceptionally kind and complimentary. It blows me away – the sheer number of reviews I'm getting on each chapter. I've been trying to answer them all but alas, I fell behind. So please, everyone accept a heart-felt thank you for taking the time to let me know you're enjoying the story.
> 
> This chapter was a bear to write and I'm not entirely sure why other than the fact I feel like it was one of those "one thing after another" sort of chapters where I had a lot I had to do...whether I wanted to or not. But, alas, it's done! Thank goodness too because this one turned into a beast as far as length goes!

" _It's all about hair now as your baby sprouts some on his head, eyebrows, and body. As for Mom, those first-trimester symptoms should be easing up a bit."_

She laid in bed thinking over the past few days. She'd crossed some lines, Booth's and her own alike, and she wasn't sure how she felt about that. There was some momentary gratification, of course. The feel of his mouth slanted across hers, his hands on her body, his body creating pressure in places he'd previously been disallowed access to – those were all things she felt crossed the invisible lines they'd created to keep themselves from endangering their partnership. But she'd smashed them all to hell in bits when she'd been foolish enough to seek pleasure against his body. It was made worse, still, by both his acceptance of her foolishness and his participation in continuing it. Honestly, she thought, what _had_ they been thinking?

She still hated Tuesday, she discovered. Because no matter what, despite the fact she was no longer charting cycles or planning an insemination, Tuesdays were still the begging of a new week for her. A new week of a pregnancy that seemed to by flying by. She was, as Angela pointed out a couple of weeks previous, more than a quarter of the way through. She was a third of the way through, she corrected herself, as she laid there thinking. Fourteen weeks already.

And for all the changes already made, she knew more were to come. She was worried about what would happen when the baby came. Not because she didn't know what she'd do with a baby – she was an incredibly intelligent woman – she could work out the details on being a mother. No, she was worried because as much as things seemed to be changing with Booth, as much as she was enjoying – even craving – the changes, she was terrified about what they meant. More terrified still because she felt a cloying need to halt all the changes. Reverse them. Put things back to the way they were twenty eight weeks ago when they'd looked at each other and said they'd try to have a baby after all.

Six months, she thought. Her life had almost completely changed in six months. She'd gone years and years without as much turmoil as she'd created in the past six months. Moreover it seemed as if the changes were just going to keep coming – that she would be unable to stop them no matter how she tried. Which was, she supposed, mostly true. The baby was one of the biggest changes and that forward progression was out of her hands.

But Booth. What to do about Booth? She was finally ready to admit there were _emotional_ factors involved in her relationship with him. She'd always been able to admit she _liked_ him. She enjoyed his company. She admired him. Of course, she'd no longer be able to deny she found him sexually attractive. Those were the easy things.

There were fleeting feelings of intangible things, though, he'd been evoking in her that stirred confusion. Unquantifiable things that were too ephemeral to label. Like how she'd get a clenching in her chest and the word _family_ would bounce, unbidden, around her head when he'd do some tiny little thing that reminded her of growing up during the time she was loved and cared for. Worse yet, how the same would happen when he'd do something uniquely him she couldn't tie to a happy time in her past. Something that had formed new roots inside her. Those were the scariest, yes. Because she alone was responsible for them. For growing and nourishing them. And she didn't know how.

Or sometimes, when she was alone and the apartment was almost quiet how she'd hear something that was uniquely _him_ and the word _love_ would start to take shape. She didn't know of love, she'd remind herself, nor believe in it. Why would it want to be born into her thinking? But she had a feeling, the sinking sort, if love were at all a possibility for her, she'd know it with him.

She'd been lost in thought too long. They had a busy week ahead of them. Case-less, still, she found herself a little grateful for that fact. It was time to tell everyone. Well, everyone who was left to tell. They'd decided to break it down into days and conversations rather than try to tackle the whole thing at once. People would have questions. Lots of them, likely. Reservations. Opinions. They'd need time to prepare and then time to listen. After that, time to react. It was, she was sure, going to be utterly exhausting.

She flung her covers back and made haste to the bathroom for the first of what would likely be a dozen or more trips that day. Between the hormones coursing through her body and the new occupant taking up space inside, her frequent need to urinate was not all that surprising. It was, however, inconvenient.

Later that morning, sequestered in her office, she was armed with a list. Tuesday: Dad; Wednesday: Rebecca (and thereby, Parker); Thursday: Russ; Friday: Jared; Saturday: Dinner Party. All of it was written out in her careful hand but there were lines, struck through, as she tried to decide exactly in which order things needed to be done. Wednesday and Saturday were the only days she couldn't change, per Booth's specific request, but the rest had been moved and shifted as her mood had changed throughout the morning.

She placed a phone call to her father at lunchtime and asked if she could come down and take him to dinner. But he'd volunteered to come to the city. She was sure he offered because of the slight tremor in her voice when she'd made the request. Her resolve was strong but she was incredibly nervous about his reaction. Though she suspected Booth's presence at that dinner meeting would give her away before she even began to speak. Not to mention if you knew her, really knew her, and looked at her appraisingly as her father always had, it wasn't hard to tell she'd physically changed – even if it wasn't immediately recognizable the specific change was pregnancy.

She'd taken to dressing more carefully than she ever had. For the most part the people she saw regularly knew. She certainly hadn't planned it that way but if there was one thing she'd learned about parenthood thus far it was that all the careful planning in the world didn't necessarily mean things would go off the way you'd intended. Her clothing, though, had become more uncomfortable, especially things that insisted on fastening securely around her waist. She found she was more comfortable in loose, flowing skirts with an elastic waistband she could push under the ever-increasing swell of her belly. Shirts she wore loose and flowing as well. The effect was usually camouflage. But occasionally she'd be able to tell if she stood just right or leaned in a particular fashion.

Booth remained fascinated by the changes she'd undergone. That morning over breakfast, after she'd leaned away from a kiss, he touched her stomach softly and quickly several times as she ate then a couple more before she'd left for work. She couldn't deny him those far-less-than-casual touches even if she found she had no problem ducking away from the new intimacies she'd fostered but ultimately was uncomfortable with.

Later that afternoon she called Booth to let him know they'd be taking her father to dinner that evening. He'd readily agreed but she'd caught him on his way into a meeting and he'd disconnected the call while she still felt as if something about their exchange was slightly...off.

At seven they met her father at Ristorante Tosca on F Street. He'd already been seated facing the door so he spotted them as soon as they walked in. As they approached the table she saw something like awareness flicker across his eyes. Booth, always poor at keeping a low profile when it came to his interactions with her, held her chair. She realized it as soon as she did it – she placed a protective hand over her stomach as she sat as if she were able to create a barrier between herself and the potentially dangerous edge of the table. Though why her maternal instincts suddenly decided table edges were problematic was beyond her.

She'd opened her mouth to speak but her father beat her to it. "So, Honey," he said with mischief in his eyes as he took a sip of lemon-ed water, "how far along are you?"

She looked over at Booth aghast. "One person. I just want to be able to tell one person before they figure it out for themselves."

Booth, for his part, merely looked amused. "That's what you get for waiting so long to tell people."

Brennan rolled her eyes at him and turned back to her father. "Yes, that's why I've asked you here. To tell you that I'm," she paused trying to figure out exactly _how_ to tell him, "that's to say _Booth_ and I...are pregnant."

Max's eyes widened. "I have to say, I expected that revelation, but I'm surprised you'd come right out and say. I guess congratulations are in order." He paused dramatically. "They are, aren't they? This wasn't some "uh-oh" moment, was it?" The twinkling in his eyes belied the idea he thought that was possible.

"Yes, congratulations would be appreciated. The pregnancy was planned."

"Planned? Honey, you didn't even tell me the two of you had finally gotten together."

Booth cleared his throat sharply and she shot him a disapproving glance. "We haven't." She wondered how much of the rest she should tell him. "Before Booth's surgery I asked if he'd consider donating as I'd decided I wanted to have a child."

"Donating?" Max looked confused. "You mean, it was a medical procedure?" He suddenly wore sympathy like a shroud and turned his gaze on Booth. "Son," he paused, "I'm sorry."

"Why are you apologizing to him?" Brennan asked, incensed.

"It's okay, Max, really," Booth answered and the two men shared what even she would call a loaded look.

"No. Why are you apologizing to him? A moment ago you congratulated us. I'm confused as to why you'd follow that with an apology."

"Honey," Max said carefully, "it's just...I'm sure it's not how Booth would have had it. Given the choice..."

Brennan hadn't considered receiving that particular reaction from her father. Unsure of where to take that she looked over at Booth. "Are you offended by my choice to have been artificially inseminated?"

"We can talk about this later," he tried to deflect.

"No. I think we should talk about it now."

"Bones," he practically growled, "we'll talk about it when we get home. This isn't the time or place."

Max, of course, picked up on that right away. "Home? As in one home?" The twinkle reappeared in his eye, much to his daughter's chagrin.

"Dad," she sighed, "please." She turned back to Booth. "I...I never meant to offend you." She was suddenly worried she'd done something wrong, that she'd somehow gone out of her way to hurt him. That wasn't the case. She'd never purposely hurt him.

Booth sighed as if he knew getting out of the conversation was going to be nearly impossible. "You didn't _offend_ me. But it's certainly not how I'd have gone about having a baby if I'd been in control of the situation." He appeared to be very uncomfortable discussing the matter in front of her father.

"And if you had been? How _would_ you have gone about having a baby?"

He mumbled something into his napkin and she motioned for him to repeat himself. "The old-fashioned way, Bones, I'd have done it the old-fashioned way. The way babies were meant to be made."

She considered that and realized she would have expected that answer from him and nodded. "I can understand that. That is typically how it's done. But considering we didn't have an established sexual relationship—"

He cut her off, "I'd have done my way anyway, Bones."

Brennan glanced at her father nervously, suddenly wishing she'd heeded Booth's advice and waited until they were home, alone together, to start the discussion. "Aardvark," she whispered. Max looked confused but Booth nodded. She'd purposely tabled their conversation until later even though she wasn't sure what would later bring.

Overall her father was very supportive. He'd had questions, certainly. What were their plans for after the baby came? They didn't know. Did they want a boy or a girl? Brennan said she didn't know at the same time Booth definitely said he'd like a girl. She was surprised. He would? Really? Who's last name would the baby take? Booth had said hers and she said she didn't know. All her father really did was impress upon Brennan exactly how much she and Booth had to talk about.

When they were leaving Max had hugged both expectant parents goodbye, detained Booth at the table while she moved on ahead, and had a short but private conversation with him that left Brennan burning with curiosity. But Booth was quiet on the way home and disappeared into his room almost the moment they'd walked through the front door. She guessed their tabled conversation was going to have to wait a little longer than she'd originally intended.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Week Fourteen: The Telling Week, Booth thought as he walked into the Hoover building. In the breast pocket of his suit jacket were the sonogram pictures he'd told Brennan he'd be showing around as soon as it was okay. But the truth of it was he mostly kept to himself in the confines of the FBI building. There was Charlie. And Krantz. And if he was feeling exceptionally callous, Perotta. But he still wanted everyone to know.

He was sitting at his desk staring at the pictures when Charlie walked in with a manila folder. "Hey, Charlie."

"Morning, Agent Booth. Cell records pertaining to the Eleventh Avenue case," he said handing over the folder. Booth tossed the glossy black and whites down onto his desk. But his eyes weren't the only that followed their progress onto the mahogany surface. "I take it those don't have anything to do with the Eleventh Avenue case," the man quipped as he picked up the photos. His eyes widened when he saw 'Brennan, Temperance' in the upper left hand corner of the picture and he turned his questioning gaze up to Booth. "Dr. Brennan's pregnant?"

He couldn't help the goofy grin that spread across his face. "Yeah."

"Wow," the analyst said quietly. He looked up at Booth. "And you have "daddy" written all over you." Booth confirmed the man's guess with a nod. "Well. How about that? Congratulations." Charlie extended his hand for a shake which Booth gladly gave him.

Booth knew news of his and Brennan's pregnancy would spread like wildfire once Charlie had the information – he had a well deserved reputation as the office gossip. By the time he left to meet Rebecca for lunch he'd shown the pictures to fifteen curious co-workers along with Cullen who'd walked in looking like proud grandparent demanding Booth "hand over the sonogram photos".

Booth met Rebecca at the diner and led her to the table he usually occupied with Brennan. They placed their orders, made small talk, tucked into identical burger orders then finally Booth opened his mouth to speak. "I need to talk to you about Bones."

"Oh, thank God," she exhaled with relief. "I've wanted to talk to you for weeks but I wasn't sure how to bring it up."

"You've wanted to talk to me? Why?"

"Well, Parker said he's been staying weekends there with you instead of at your place. And then, Dr. Brennan's pregnant, so I figure…"

He nodded; Rebecca had always been an intelligent woman. "Well, it's not exactly like you figure, I can promise you that."

"So you're not Dr. Brennan's baby's father, then?"

"No, I am." He took a long sip of iced tea. "And yeah, Parker's been staying at her place with me the last several weekends I've had him. But he and I are sharing a room." He said that with a pointed look.

"Oh," Rebecca said slowly, drawing the word out. "Okay, no, I don't understand," she finally said shaking her head.

"About eight months ago Bones told me she wanted to be a mother. And you have to understand, for her, it was a decision to be thought about and made rationally. It didn't have anything to do with love or wanting to have a family _with_ someone. It's just something she decided she wanted and she asked me if I'd be her baby's father.

"Before I was diagnosed with the tumor, I gave a sample. Then there was the surgery and the coma and time passed. She didn't say anything about it, but I couldn't get it out of my head. About six months ago she asked me again. I thought a lot about it, Rebecca, I did. And I just couldn't think of any reason not to give her what she wanted."

"But Seeley—"

"No, wait a minute. I did think of Parker. I'm not sure how he's going to take it, but Rebecca, he's crazy about her like I am."

"Seeley—"

"Hold on. This isn't about trying to have the family I didn't get to have with the two of you. I love my son, Rebecca, you know I do." Booth knew she was just moments away from laying into him.

"Damnit, Seeley, shut up a minute!" He looked up at her, shocked, but he did stop talking. "I'm not worried about Parker. I mean, I'm a little worried about how he'll take it, but that's not what I'm concerned about right now. I'm concerned about _you_."

"Why?"

"Are you sure you know what you're getting into here? It's clear to me you have feelings for Dr. Brennan and you two have moved forward and have decided to have a baby. But you're not even seeing each other? That doesn't sound like you."

He sighed. "I can't explain it. Things aren't where I'd have them, ideally, but she's coming around. I just want her to be happy."

She nodded, "Now that does sound like you." She finished her burger. "Have you thought about what you want to say to Parker?"

"I thought maybe you could help me out there," he said sheepishly.

She grinned at him, "Always sticking me with the hard stuff."

"No, I'll tell him. I just don't want to say the wrong thing."

"You said it yourself, he's crazy about her. But he's not going to understand a difference between just having a sibling and having a whole other family."

"Bones is my family, Rebecca. Bones and Parker. Whether or not Bones and I were going to have a baby she'd be my family."

"He's a smart kid, Seeley, just be honest with him."

"Do you want to be there when I tell him?"

"Dr. Brennan wouldn't mind?"

He was a little taken aback. He hadn't considered whether or not Brennan would want to be with him when he told Parker. "I thought I'd tell him, just us."

She shook her head emphatically, "No. Family is family. You don't get to pick and choose. You want him to feel secure?" She waited for Booth's nod. "Then she should be there. Let it be real and tangible for him. He's eight. He doesn't work well with hypotheticals."

"I'll talk to Bones. I'd like you to be there, but I'll need to check with her."

"Okay. I've got court in a half hour, I've got to run. Let's plan on you having him after school, okay?"

"Yeah. I'll call you about tonight?"

"That's fine." She stood up and collected her purse and briefcase but leaned down as she passed him and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Congratulations, Seeley." She swept out of the restaurant, beautiful as ever and he was thankful for her at that moment.

To his surprise Brennan sounded relieved when he asked her if she'd like Rebecca to be there when they told Parker. Later that evening the four of them sat around Brennan's dining room table ready to talk after eating dinner.

"Parker," Booth started hesitantly, "How would you feel about being a big brother?"

Parker sighed and looked between his parents. "Are you and mom having another baby?"

Booth glanced over at Brennan to see a stricken look on her face. He looked back over at his son. "No. Not your mom and me." He reached over and grasped Brennan's hand in a supportive gesture. "But Bones is pregnant."

Parker's face lit up. "Really?" But then confusion swept over him. "And Bones' baby would by my brother or sister?"

Booth nodded, "Yes."

"When my friend Garrett's dad told him _he_ was going to be a big brother he had a stepmom. Does that mean Bones is my stepmom?"

Booth and Rebecca shared a glance across the table and Brennan's face drained of color. Rebecca spoke up and Booth sighed with relief. "No, Parker, Dr. Brennan's not your stepmother."

Parker shrugged, "But if she's not my stepmom how come her baby is going to be my little brother or sister?"

"Well, Bones' baby is also _my_ baby," Booth stressed. "So you and the baby would both have me for a dad. That's why it would be your brother or sister."

Parker nodded sagely in the way only children can do. "Okay."

"Okay?" Booth wasn't sure what his son was saying "okay" too.

"Yeah. I think it'd be cool." He nodded definitively. "But, you know, if Bones wanted to be my stepmom that would be okay too."

Booth glanced up at Rebecca expecting to see fire in her eyes but instead she was smiling at her son. He looked over at Brennan and she was discreetly trying to wipe tears from her eyes.

Booth leaned over and whispered to his son, "I'm going to teach you a very valuable lesson about women, Son." Parker looked at his father wide-eyed. "Go hug the ladies." He winked.

While Parker rounded the table to his mother, Booth pulled Brennan into his arms. "You okay?"

She sniffled into his neck. "Yes. I just didn't expect him to say that."

Booth kissed her temple and noticed Rebecca had a tight grip on their son and was fighting tears of her own. "I told you he was crazy about you."

"I think I'd like to kiss you right now."

He pulled back from her and couldn't help the twinkle in his eyes. He knows why she said it – it certainly wasn't the time to be sharing kisses. Not in the present company, anyway. So instead he whispered, "I'd like to kiss you right now too." And somehow it was enough.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Thursday over lunch she couldn't resist anymore. "What did my father tell you at dinner Tuesday night?"

Booth pointed a French fry at her. "That's between him and me. If he'd have wanted you to know he'd have told you too."

"I'm not comfortable with you and my father sharing secrets."

"We're not sharing secrets."

"Then why won't you tell me what he told you?"

He looked over at her office door then back at her across the desk and the mess of their lunch spread out in front of them. She looked over at the door. Closed. He pushed his chair back from the desk and motioned for her. "Come here."

"What?"

"Come here," he repeated.

"Booth, I'm right here." She gestured to the three feet of desk top that separated them.

"Come closer," he said with a hint of a smile on his face.

She sighed with exasperation but got up and circled the desk to him. She stood in front of him expectantly. "Now what?" He patted his lap. She quirked an eyebrow at him, "I don't think so."

"Come on, Bones, sit down."

"On your lap?"

"Yeah. Why not?"

"Because I don't sit on your lap."

"Well, today you do." He patted his thigh again. "Come on."

She was thoroughly confused but she took a tentative seat on his lap letting her thighs cross his. "And now?"

"Just relax." He wrapped his arms around her and guided her head to his shoulder.

She held her tongue as long as she could – about fifteen seconds. "What are you doing?"

"One of the things your dad told me to do."

"Which was?"

"To hold you. Often."

She hadn't expected that. "Why would he tell you that?"

"You mom, when she was pregnant with you and Russ, she liked to be held."

Brennan waited for comfort to come, but it didn't. "I'm not sure I like this."

He sighed. "You need to relax. Then you'll like it."

"We're in my office. What if someone walks in?"

His voice was a low rumble when he answered. "Okay, fair enough. But we're going to try again at home tonight."

There was something about that timbre in his voice that made her very agreeable. She nodded. "Okay." A few minutes later he helped her clear the mess from lunch then caressed her shoulder before walking out of her office. That one touch, she felt, held the promise of later. She wasn't used to promising touches. It filled her with equal parts hope and dread.

Later that night she called Russ. Part of her was sure her father would have already told her brother. So she was surprised when her announcement was met with a "No shit?"

"No, uh…shit," she confirmed.

"God, Tempe, that's…wait a minute. Is Booth the father?"

"Why does everyone automatically assume Booth's the father?"

"Well, is he?"

"Yes."

"Then why would it matter?"

"Booth and I aren't in a relationship."

Russ snorted. "Keep telling yourself that."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means just because you don't call it a relationship doesn't mean you don't _have_ a relationship."

She sighed heavily. "I really don't want to get into the status of my relationship, or lack thereof, with Booth right now. I just wanted to tell you about the baby."

"Really, Tempe, congratulations." She heard Amy's voice in the background then Russ' much closer voice tell her about the pregnancy. Then, "Amy wants to know how far along you are."

"Fourteen weeks."

He passed the news along to Amy then paused while he waited for her to speak. "She says you and Booth need to come for the weekend soon. We'd really like to see you."

"I'll, uh, check with him. I'm not sure how he'd feel about that. Honestly, Russ, I'm not just being discreet. Booth and I are not in a romantic relationship."

"Well _something_ about your relationship is romantic. You're pregnant. You're not the sort of woman who would allow that to happen indiscriminately."

"You're right. It was planned. I was artificially inseminated." There was a long pause and she began to think they'd been disconnected. "Russ?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm here. I just...I didn't expect that."

"That seems to be the usual reaction."

"Is this really what you want?"

Just as she was about to answer she heard Booth come in the door. "Russ, can you hold a moment?"

"Sure."

She put her hand over the telephone and asked, "Booth, would you be adverse to visiting Russ and Amy for a weekend sometime soon?"

He threw his keys and cell phone into the bowl by the front door. "Why?"

"I've just told them I'm pregnant and Amy has invited us for the weekend."

"Us?" he asked, eyebrows raised.

"Yes." She knew his question revolved largely around the concept of "us" but chose to ignore it in favor of answering simpler questions.

He shrugged and said, "Sure," before moving off toward the kitchen.

Brennan went back to her phone call. "Russ, Booth said okay. Let us check our schedules and I'll email you about a mutually agreeable time for a visit."

Russ chuckled. "Okay. You know, you can bring Booth's son with you, if you like. Make a family thing out it. You know, with Dad being here and all. And Amy's girls."

"I'll..." she hadn't considered the possibility of including Parker. "I'll check with Booth and find out what he thinks. I'll email soon."

"Sounds fine. Congratulations again. You're going to be a great mom, Tempe. You know that, right?"

"Well, everyone seems to think I will be. I think I'm ready."

He laughed outright at that. "You'll never be _ready_. But kids are worth every single minute of the chaos."

She had to chuckle at that too. "I would think so. Thank you, Russ."

"Anytime. Hey, wait!" he said just as she'd moved the phone away to disconnect the call.

"Yes?"

"I love you, sis. I really do."

Her eyes misted up again. "I love you, too. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Booth observed the end of her conversation with Russ from the kitchen doorway. When she hung up he wandered into the living room and took up what he'd come to think of as his place on the sofa.

"I continue to have to convince people we're not in a relationship."

He hadn't expected her to start a conversation let alone that particular one. "It's only natural they'd think that considering we've decided to start a family together." He'd carefully chosen his phrase and was on pins and needles to find out what she'd do with it.

"I suppose you're correct."

Well, he thought, at least she didn't tell me we weren't "starting a family, we're only having a baby". "So Russ and Amy's?"

"Yes. They've invited Parker, as well, but I wasn't sure how you'd feel about that."

"I think," he said carefully, "it sounds like a very _family_ sort of thing to do."

"Do you think it upset Rebecca when Parker said he wouldn't mind if I were his stepmother? I imagine that would make a mother feel very insecure."

"Bones, Rebecca and I are proud of our son. We're proud of his capacity to love, accept and embrace people, among many other things. You and me, Bones? We're a family. Whether or not you're ever technically Parker's stepmother doesn't really matter – not to him, anyway. Rebecca understands how close you and I are. She accepts your presence in Parker's life and she doesn't feel threatened by it. Parker loves his mom and she knows that. But he loves you too. And despite Rebecca's faults she wouldn't want to take that from you."

Brennan nodded slowly. "I love Parker, too."

He pulled her across the empty distance of the couch between them and into his arms. "I know you do. And you don't know what it means to me to hear you say it."

As she cuddled closer to him, carving a place for herself out of his personal space, she said, "I still want to know what my father told you."

"That was one-man-to-another stuff, Bones. I can't tell you all of it."

"Tell me what you can, then?"

He nodded against the crown of her head. "You know the part about holding you. You may not believe in emotions, but even you have to believe in the power of a simple touch. You're much more comfortable with this here than you were earlier in your office, aren't you?"

"Yes." The warmth of her breath washed across his chest and filtered through the material of his dress shirt and she fiddled with his top button.

"Okay. No more semi-public Bones-holding. Got it." He smiled when she giggled. He loved it when she'd relax enough to giggle. "Holding on to you isn't just for you though, you know. It's for me too. Touching people helps us feel close to them."

"So my father told you to hold me so we'd feel close to each other?"

"Yeah, essentially that's it. It goes for other people too, though, Bones. Long hugs, handholding...they're just ways to show someone you care about them."

They sat quietly for a while wrapped in the embrace when finally she spoke again. "What else did he tell you?"

"Once piece of the puzzle at a time. I promise you'll get most of it, but one thing at a time."

"But there are still some parts you can't tell me?"

"Not can't, Bones. Won't. It's between your dad and me. Father to father. Man to man."

She nodded. "Okay."

"Really?"

"Yes. If it's important to you, then okay."

He squeezed her tighter. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." She'd started her very distracting caressing of his chest and stomach again when she said, "Would you really have preferred creating our child through sexual intercourse than by using artificial insemination?"

He tensed. He knew he had to tread carefully thorough that particular minefield. "I think it's good when babies are created through an act of love. I'd always imagined, if I had another kid, I'd do it the more traditional way. That doesn't mean I'm sorry we did it."

"I didn't think you were. I asked if you would have preferred sex instead of medical intervention to facilitate my pregnancy."

"Did you seriously just ask a man if he would have preferred having sex with you to _not_ having sex with you?" he scoffed.

"I'm not joking, Booth. I'm asking if, based on the relationship we have with each other, you believed sex would have been the preferential way to create a baby."

"Based on the relationship we had _then_ I'd say we did it the right way."

She seemed as if she was considering that. "And now?"

"And now you're pregnant so it doesn't matter." He said it in such a way that even she would know the conversation was over. But she was thinking and so was he. He just hoped they were thinking the same things.

Friday night he met Jared at the Founding Fathers, against his better judgment, and told him about Brennan's pregnancy. His brother, typically, made several jokes about Booth's choice of mothers for his kids. Booth resisted the urge to punch Jared when, during the conversation, words like "cold," "emotionless," "bitchy," and "controlling" were used to describe one or both of the women.

"Watch how you talk about the mothers of my children. And why are you in such a bad mood tonight?"

"I'm not in a bad mood. But what do you want me to do, Seeley, jump up and down because you knocked up another woman? Well, congratulations, Big Brother. Way to fuck up." Jared toasted him with a glass of scotch.

Booth's hands balled into fists and he itched with the desire to slug his brother good and hard – it was a feeling he was very familiar with. Unable to quell the craving, Booth _did_ hit his brother then, watched the glass tumbler shatter on the floor scattering ice, and hauled him out of the bar. "Knocked up? God, Jared, you've met the woman – how could you even think that? And I'm not confessing a sin. I'm telling you Bones and I are having a baby. It wasn't a mistake or an accident. We talked about it. We did it."

Jared pressed a tentative hand to his swelling jaw. "You're crazy if you think having a baby with Temperance is going to work out any better than it did with Rebecca."

"Don't come around until you can speak kindly to my family, Jared. You don't have to like the choices I make but you do have to accept them. Bones isn't going anywhere. And you damn sure better get over whatever jealousy it is that's got you thinking the way you do about her."

"Jealousy?" Jared scoffed. "Have at her, Man. That crazy bitch pushed me off a bar stool once."

"Yeah. I'm starting to think she had the right idea."

"Well she's got you in her camp now, doesn't she? Damn it, Seel, I think you busted my jaw."

"Yeah, well, you were out of line."

"Fixing things just like Dad used to then, are you?"

"Fuck off, Jared. And I'm serious. I don't want you coming around at all. Don't come by and don't call. Not until you can sort out whatever problem you've got."

"You, Big Brother, you're my problem. Always getting everything you want and making the rest of us look bad in the process."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Never mind," Jared said, already stalking down the sidewalk in search of a cab. "Never mind."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

She worried about Booth's meeting with Jared. Things hadn't ever really solidified between Jared and herself. Truthfully, if there was anyone she was sure she disliked it would be Jared. But, he was Booth's brother so she'd resolved herself to just ignoring the aggravating man rather than exacerbating the situation.

When Booth walked in the front door favoring his right hand, though, she knew _something_ had gone wrong.

"Sit down," she said, "I'll get you some ice."

Booth was slumped dejectedly on the couch when she returned with an open beer and ice wrapped in a dish cloth. She took his bruised hand in hers – and flinched when he did – and handed over the beer. "What happened?" she asked as she settled the ice pack over his knuckles.

"Jared is an asshole. That's what happened."

"Oh." She wasn't quite sure what to say to him when he was in the mood he was in. She'd never really seen him that way before. "So, you hit him?"

"Yeah," Booth said gruffly, "I hit him."

Brennan just nodded her head. "Is there anything I can do?"

The corners of his mouth quirked up almost like he was going to smile. "You'd slap me if I told you what you _could_ do."

"I don't know what that means."

"It means I'm upset, I'm running off adrenaline, and I'm a guy. The things you _could_ do are not necessarily things you _should_ do."

Her eyes widened in understanding. "Oh." She thought about it for a moment. "So you're saying you're _aroused_ right now? Because you fought with Jared?"

He chucked derisively, "No, I'm not _'aroused'_ ," he mimicked her tone, "because I fought with Jared. I was defending your honor. Biology has a funny way of reminding us what we've fought for."

"You hit Jared because of me?"

"Sort of. Not really. Yeah, a little bit. There were some other reasons."

"I'm confused, Booth."

"Me too."

She couldn't help but glance down at his lap. He _did_ appear to be in some state of arousal. "You don't usually mention it when you're aroused."

"It's not the sort of thing you talk about, Bones."

"There's nothing wrong with—" she started but he cut her off.

"Unless you're ready for this to take us in a direction we're not really ready for, I'd stop talking."

"But I've already told you I'm attracted to you." Her hands fluttered over the ice pack and his injured hand. "The hormones have made it very difficult to—"

"I'm not joking, Bones. Right now's not the time to mess with my head."

She nodded. She was aware he wasn't keen on the idea of sex with her, though she wasn't really sure why. She was especially confused considering his comment about preferring to have made a baby the old-fashioned way. "Okay." She shifted next to him and he finally looked away from the point on the wall he'd been staring at and over at her. "I'm sorry you fought with Jared."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome."

And because he'd asked her not to, she didn't "mess with his head" anymore. Even though she thought she saw something in his eyes that said it would have been okay, she didn't kiss him the way she wanted to.

The following day was their dinner party. The original function of the dinner party was to tell their friends and coworkers they were expecting. But, as it happened, the only people coming who didn't already know were Sweets and Wendell.

Over dinner they flummoxed Sweets. He gaped when they told him then hugged both Brennan and Booth twice each before hugging Brennan one last time, so long and so tightly she eventually had to remove herself from his embrace.

"So does this mean," he asked excitedly, "the two of you finally decided to admit what the rest of us have seen for years?"

Out of the corner of her eye Brennan could see Angela and Booth both motioning for him to stop with that particular line of questioning.

It was later that evening when Wendell and Booth were talking about hockey gear and Booth disappeared down the hall to the bedrooms and returned with the guards in question.

Suddenly Cam, Angela, Hodgins and Sweets turned wide eyed stares on Brennan. "Sweetie," Angela asked slowly and sweetly, "when were you going to tell us Booth _lived_ here now?"

"What?" She knew she sounded guilty. "He doesn't live here."

"Then why," Cam asked with amusement, "did he just get his hockey gear out of the bedroom?"

She looked over at Booth for help but he and Wendell were engrossed in the bits of plastic he'd procured. "He's just…well, he's…he started staying with me when my first trimester symptoms were so bad. He was worried."

Hodgins appeared to know the conversation wasn't one he wanted to be a part of and he wandered off to talk Hockey with the guys. Sweets, however, was captivated. "That was how long ago, Dr. Brennan?"

"I don't know," she evaded. "Not all that long ago."

"Which symptoms?" Angela asked suddenly.

"Well, I guess it was when I was so lightheaded."

Angela, always observant, did some quick calculations. "That was a month and a half ago."

"So?" Brennan figured she could play her way dumb out of the conversation if she tried hard enough.

"So a month and a half isn't "staying over", Bren, it's "moved in"."

"He does _not_ live here," Brennan hissed.

Cam and Angela shared a look. "Okay," Cam said pragmatically. But she leaned over to Angela and whispered just loud enough for Brennan to hear, "That explains so much."

"Like what?" Sweets questioned.

"Are you really going to gossip about me in _front_ of me?" Brennan was aghast. She'd told them the truth, such as it was considering she and Booth hadn't actually talked about him moving in.

Sweets sat back in his chair. "Dr. Brennan is right. If she said Agent Booth hasn't moved in, he hasn't. We should just drop it." Cam and Angela shared another pointed look, but to Brennan's relief, did let the subject drop.

Monday evening after an oddly light day Booth and Brennan sat at her dining room table playing cards. "Everyone thinks you live here now." Booth didn't say anything so she continued. "Do you? Live here now, I mean."

Booth leaned back in his chair. "I have been staying for a while, haven't I?"

"Not that long," she said noncommittally.

"Is this your way of telling me it's time to pack my toys and go home?"

She thought about it. She still wasn't ready for him to leave. She liked having him there. But she wasn't yet ready to admit how much she wanted him to stay. She still wasn't entirely sure how she felt about many important issues. Finally, when the casual look on his face began to look pained, she said, "No."

"Okay." And he picked up the cards and shuffled.


	16. Week 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: So this was a really fun one to write…even if it did take me a day longer than I originally thought it would.
> 
> This chapter (and the last) was beta'd by the fabulous Kerrison. However, mistakes are all mine as I'm stellar at ignoring some of her more salient points. What can I say? I'm stubborn… It should also be mentioned that she's not all that crazy about the fact I'm naming her here. Let it be said I'm not only stubborn but a severe pain in the ass. I've come to rely on her quite heavily. And she's really, really fantastic. And I'm going to stop gushing now before she hunts me down…

" _If you don't have a name for the baby by now, get ready to go through the alphabet a few dozen times."_

"Jibri," she said and offered Booth the Beef and Broccoli container.

"Adelaide," he countered her own ridiculous offer with one of his own and accepted the take-out container she offered.

"Moeshe."

"Hortence."

"Deo."

"Bobbie Sue."

"You're not taking this seriously at all!"

She'd taken to pouting when he disappointed her. If the desired effect was to make him want to kiss her then she was marvelously successful. "I'm taking it as seriously as you are," he countered. "Moeshe?"

"It's Hebrew," she shrugged.

"Neither one of us are Jewish."

"That means we can't draw from a culture with a long and rich history?"

"It means I'm not naming my kid Moeshe." When she opened her mouth to speak he cut her off with, "Or Jibri or Deo."

"Well, I refuse to name a child Hortence."

"I wasn't seriously considering the name. I was making a point."

"And why are we doing this now? We won't even know whether we're having a boy or a girl for five more weeks."

"It's just one of the things we talk about. We've got plenty of time to make a decision." He snagged the last fried dumpling from the round aluminum container and popped it in his mouth.

"Hey! I was eating those."

"I know," he smirked. "Eight in an order and I got two. Now that you're stealing my food we're going to have to amend our usual orders."

"It's not my fault the zoo-keeper likes meat."

He loved it when she called the baby anything other than "the fetus". She seemed _softer_ to him as the pregnancy progressed. Sure, she was still hyper-rational. Still infuriatingly, and if he were honest, sexily, intelligent. But she'd definitely lost a little of that all-the-time empirical outlook that had a way of driving him unpleasantly crazy.

"Yeah, but a month ago it was just my beef that was in danger. Now it's all meat products."

She threw him a saucy smile, "You have _no_ idea."

"Are you _flirting_ with me?"

"I can't help it, Booth. Now that I'm feeling better it's much harder to ignore sexual impulses." She cleared the takeout containers from the couch cushions between them and set them on the coffee table.

"So, what?" he asked. "You're horny and I'm available?" He couldn't help the bitterness that crept into his voice.

"Why are you upset?"

"A few weeks ago we...well you know, in the parking garage. Then there was that kiss on your couch. That night you..." he trailed off. He wasn't sure if he wanted her to know he'd overheard her pleasuring herself. But then again, she was sitting a couple of feet away from him and coming on to him. What was he supposed to do? "That night you...I overhead you."

He watched as a smirk bloomed across her face. "I masturbated that night," she said matter-of-factly and shifted until she was a few inches closer to him.

He cleared his throat. "Right. Then there was whatever the hell it was that happened out here on the sofa bed."

He watched as her face flushed with arousal and her breathing quickened slightly. "Yes," she said huskily.

"Then last week you wouldn't even kiss me. I know," he said pointedly. "I tried."

"I was confused," she said. She lowered her voice as if making a confession, "Not _everything_ I've been feeling for you lately has been sexual. And I don't know what that means."

"What have you been feeling?" He didn't want to press but he was curious. He wanted, more than anything, to allow himself to hope she was feeling love. But it's still a concept that remained largely foreign to her.

"I don't...I don't really know. I just like being…close…to you."

It wasn't quite an answer, but it was quite an admission for her. He hadn't been able to get it out of his head, the way she sounded the night she unspooled, saying she only felt right when he was in front of her. That was telling. And so was her admitting she'd liked being close to him – he hoped she meant emotionally as well as physically but he'd take what he could get for the moment. Relate to her on her level, as it was.

He shifted around until his back rested against a throw pillow against the arm of the couch and one of his legs stretched along the back. The other foot he planted flat on the floor. "Come here," he said as he reclined and patted his chest.

She looked at him askance. "What?"

"Come on, lean back; relax."

She looked at the open invitation of his arms and legs then turned and scooted back until her hips were snug between his thighs and her back pressed against his chest. He dropped his hands to the swell of her belly and lifted his other leg up to press against hers on the edge of the couch cushions. Slowly, methodically, he ran his hands over and around the swell until her hands covered his but didn't stop his movement. "What are you doing?"

"Holding you," he said lowly against her ear. She shivered against him.

"Like Dad told you to?"

"Like I want to," he corrected. He caressed her. Hands running surely over her belly, the tops of her thighs – dipping nimble fingers a couple of times down onto the sensitive expanse of inner thigh, her throat down to the upper part of her chest where her breasts just began, her arms, her waist. He caressed her until her hands fell down to grasp his thighs, her head fell back onto his shoulder exposing her creamy white throat, and her breathing was shallow. Her body was singing in his arms.

He tilted and dipped his head until his lips hovered just above the responsive skin of her neck. He exhaled hotly against her then pressed a gentle kiss against the breath-warmed flesh. He moved on and kissed, licked, nipped and sucked all the exposed skin he could reach before he directed her head to his other shoulder and started all over again on the other side.

She was panting by the time he stroked and hand up through her hair and turned her head until he could kiss her. She moaned when his tongue touched hers for the first time in over a week. He hardened against her and she wiggled back against him. He kept kissing her and allowed her to squirm against him until he knew he couldn't take much more before he came and that wasn't his objective.

He stilled her movements by dropping his hands down to her hips. One hand slid around her until the heel of his hand brushed against the bottom swelling of her stomach and his fingertips pressed intently on her mons. He made slow, deliberate circles until her hips started to tilt up in an attempt to drive his fingers lower. He could feel the heat radiating from the junction of her thighs and it took all of his willpower not to grant her well expressed invitation to stroke her heat.

He drove his tongue deep into her mouth as he added pressure just an inch above where she was begging for it. She scratched her nails across his denim covered thigh and he growled into her mouth. At that sound she shattered. A sharp cry issued from the back of her throat, her head flew back and her body vibrated through what he was sure was an unexpected orgasm.

She sucked in one huge lungful of air after another until her body relaxed back against him. Sated. Finally. "Oh, God," she moaned.

He chuckled. "Feel better now?"

"Mmm." She snuggled against him.

He suppressed a groan as her movement rekindled his own fire. "I guarantee you your dad didn't tell me to do _that_."

She laughed – a sultry, low and throaty sound. "No, I can't imagine he would have." She burrowed her face into the side of his neck. "I can't believe...I mean you didn't even _touch_ me."

"I'm pretty sure I was touching you."

She laughed at his wry tone. "No, I mean you didn't touch me in any of the usual orgasm-inducing places."

"Well," he said with a smirk, "when you're good, Baby, you're good."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Maybe, she thought, Tuesdays weren't so bad after all. She was still reclining in his arms as residual tremors shook her delicately. She couldn't believe he did that. She couldn't believe terror hadn't yet gripped her and forced her out of his arms. She shifted her hips back a little. She couldn't believe he was still so hard and hadn't made a move to do anything about it. That was twice he'd allowed her to take pleasure from his body without any regard for his own. Of course, she'd show more self restraint the first time than she had the second. Then again, Parker hadn't been an arm's reach away either.

She pushed her ass back against him again and he groaned. She loved that sound so she did it again and he grabbed her hips. He swept her hair out of the way and placed a hot, open-mouthed kiss at the base of her neck. "Stop that."

"But you're hard..."

"I'm used to it," he said before licking a path from the place he kissed to her hairline at the base of her skull. She couldn't help the tremble it caused.

"We could..." She tilted her head back in the direction of the bedrooms.

"I told you before, I'm not a sex toy."

"Well, you _did_ just give me an—"

"And that's as far as it goes."

"But," she was confused, "why?"

"Because I still believe sex is an expression of love. And you still believe it's only a way to satisfy biological urges. And say what you like but you're all...urging...right now."

She pushed back into him again and rotated her hips. "Unless I'm mistaken, so are you."

"Like I said, I'm used to it."

"Will you..." she didn't know how to ask but she had a burning desire to know. "Will you _take care of it_ later?"

He dropped his lips back to her ear and whispered, "You want to know if later, when I'm in bed or in the shower, if I'll stroke myself? Finally let myself come?" He nipped at her earlobe. "I'm neither a martyr nor a masochist. You'd better believe I will."

"So you can watch me come but I can't watch you?"

He grinned at her. "You look gorgeous when you come. I make the dreaded 'O' face."

"'O' Face?"

He laughed. "You know..." he scrunched up his face and contorted his mouth until she couldn't help but laugh. "See? That's why."

"Well, I can help you. I mean, you did help me..."

"Tit for tat?"

"I don't know what that means."

He laughed again. "It means give then get back what you gave."

She thought about it then nodded, "Yes. Tit for tat." When he didn't answer right away she felt compelled to say, "I promise not to look at your face."

He chuckled dryly. "Thanks, but I can handle it."

She pouted because she knew that new affectation of hers had a way of affecting _him_. "The point is _I_ want to handle it." She dropped her gaze over her shoulder to his distended groin.

He groaned. "You're killing me here, Bones."

"You know," she said rotating her hips against him again, "the French call the orgasm _le petit mort_. The little death." She was shocked when he didn't say anything and continued to let her roll and shift against him. If anything the hands on her hips began to guide her movements. "Let me kill you a little, Booth."

Before she realized what had happened he'd pushed her away, flipped her over until she was lying flat on the couch and he was between her legs pressing all that delicious hardness into the still-fluttering and damply heated flesh between her legs. "Who do you think could kill the other a little first?" he husked against her lips.

She moaned into his mouth and he scooped out the sound with his tongue. "I've already come. I've got much further to go than you do."

He thrust into her and she mewled. "I seriously doubt that." He traced the skin above neckline of her blouse with his tongue.

She raised her legs until she could grip his hips with her thighs. "Wanna bet?"

He braced his forearms on the couch on either side of her head and looked down at her, "What's the wager?"

"Whoever comes first picks the baby's middle name. Last to come gets full first name rights."

"You're on," he said and dropped his mouth to her ear. He sucked her earlobe into his mouth.

He pressed the full, hard length of himself into her and she finally felt pressure on her aching clit. He dropped his voice and said, "God, you're so hot, you're practically burning me."

She was suddenly sure, in that moment, she was going to lose. Between the feel of his hardness against her neglected clit and the sound of his voice she felt like she was only moments away from...Then he said it, in a warm, rich, confident and authoritative tone: "Right now, Bren. Come for me, right now." And she did. She thought she might have called his name. Maybe she called him God. But between the feel of him on her tightly coiled bundle of nerves combined with the sound of his voice calling her the name he'd known her as in her story and his coma dream – the name of the woman who was his wife – she couldn't keep herself from splintering.

She'd expected him to be smug or laughing when she pried her eyes open but instead his eyes were dark and serious. He claimed her mouth, thrusting his tongue, as he took up a counter rhythm with his hips that left him groaning into her, around their dueling tongues, and then shaking with the force of his own orgasm.

He tipped himself to the side and dragged her with him until they were lying face to face on the couch. "I win."

"You cheated."

"How did I cheat?"

"You _talked_ to me."

"Is it my fault I've got a sexy, causes-women-to-cream sort of voice?"

"It wasn't the sound of your voice..."

"But what I said?" he whispered.

"Yes," she said quietly.

He shifted until he was lying partially flat and she could rest her head on his chest. They lay there quietly, both ruminating. Finally he groaned. "I'm a fucking mess. I've got to take a shower."

She couldn't help but giggle a little but soon grew serious. "Did you...I mean, are you upset? Did I use you as if you were a sex toy?"

"No." He kissed her forehead. "I think that was a mutual decision."

"I didn't exactly leave you much room for deciding against."

He chuckled, "You didn't take advantage of me, Bones. It's okay." He flopped back and threw a forearm over his eyes. "I can't believe we did that. Last time I came from dry-humping on a couch I was fifteen and scared the shit out of Tonya Jernigan." He looked over at her and saw the confusion on her face. He laughed at the memory. "I was jerking around like I was having a seizure. It was the first time I'd ever come with another person in the room."

She joined him in his laughter. "Well, you've certainly improved your technique." No, she supposed, Tuesdays weren't so bad after all.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

She peppered the whole of Wednesday afternoon with name suggestions. As they were leaving the Jeffersonian she tossed another horrible idea his direction. "I don't know why you keep suggesting names. I won."

"And that means you won't take input?"

"Not if your input is 'Arden'."

"But it's European."

"No."

"You're not even considering any boys names."

"Sure I am."

"You haven't suggested any."

"It doesn't matter if I suggest them or not. I get to name the baby. All I have to do is fill it in on the birth certificate." He winked at her. He'd been purposely driving her crazy with the baby naming.

"I do get to pick the middle name," she huffed. "Don't you want to make sure the two names sound pleasing together?"

"Pick something that goes with Howard."

" _Howard?_ " she spit. "Absolutely not."

"Oh no. I won. I pick."

"And you'd pick _Howard_?" They'd stopped walking and she was now glaring at him over the hood of his SUV.

He climbed in and waited for her to do the same. "How is Howard worse than Deo?"

"What's wrong with Deo?"

"Aside from the fact it's a Harry Belafonte song?"

"Okay," she conceded, "point taken. However, it's short for Amadeo. How about that?"

"How about not?"

"How did you get your name?"

"Seeley?" he asked and waited for her to nod. "Family name."

"What about Seeley, then, if we have a boy?"

He looked over at her. "Are you serious?"

"Well, it's a family name. And it's...It's a good name, Booth."

She was serious. And it choked him up a little. "What about the rest?"

"He could have all of your name, couldn't he? Would you not want a son to carry your full name?"

"Booth." He was a little in awe. He'd never really considered it. "You... I thought you'd want the baby to have your last name." She didn't answer. "You wouldn't mind not sharing a last name with your child?"

"Would you? Parker carries your last name."

"That's...I already have a son who carries my name. If we have a boy, wouldn't you want _your_ last name to be carried on?"

"In all fairness, 'Brennan' isn't really my last name either, is it?"

"I don't know, Bones. It doesn't seem right, somehow. This was for you. What you wanted. And then you give something like that away? Something so big?"

She thought about it. Her brow furrowed in a way that made his heart clench a little. "What about a compromise?"

"What?"

"Seeley Brennan Booth. Not...not _hyphenated_. Just Seeley Booth. He could have my last name as a middle name."

Something about his name that way, with _her_ name in between, felt incredibly intimate. Incredibly... _right_. He couldn't answer around the lump that had lodged itself in his throat and she appeared to take his silence the wrong way.

"Or, does that sound too feminine? Since a lot of people call me Brennan? Do you associate it as a woman's name?"

"No," he said quietly. "It's perfect."

"So we've agreed, then? Seeley Brennan Booth, if it's a boy?"

They were stopped at a light and he looked over at her. She looked so earnest yet somehow nervous. Did she really still fear his answer? "Yeah, Bones," he leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to her lips. "We've agreed."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"Booth and I have agreed on a name if we have a boy," she said conversationally to Angela over lunch on Thursday.

"Really?" Her friend sounded intrigued. "Well?"

"Seeley Brennan Booth. We've decided he could have Booth's name but to give him my last name as his middle name."

Brennan watched with fascination as Angela's eyes misted over. She appeared to be having the same emotional reaction Booth had and she wasn't sure she understood it. "Bren...That's...God. What did Booth say?"

"He was agreeable."

"Well, clearly. But what did he _say_."

Brennan couldn't help the warmth that flushed through her or the small smile that played around her lips. "He said it was perfect."

"Can you imagine? A tiny little Seeley Booth running around? That would be pretty amazing."

Brennan couldn't help but agree. "But I believe he'd really rather have a girl."

"He said that?"

"No. But he continually refers to the baby as 'she' and he already has Parker..."

"Sweetie, Booth is going to fall head over heels for whatever you end up having. He might _want_ a girl but I don't think it would break his heart if you had a boy."

"I still think I'd like to have a boy."

"Why?"

"I'm not sure. It's just something that keeps...coming to me."

"That, Bren, is not at all logical. I think pregnancy is messing with your head."

Brennan laughed. "That's possible. It's also messing with everything else. It's time to buy new clothing. I can't imagine I'll get any more than a couple more weeks out of the skirts I have that are still comfortable. And I really need new bras."

"Ooh, shopping trip. What are you doing this weekend?"

"We have Parker this weekend."

"' _We_ have Parker'?"

"Booth, obviously, has Parker. But the last several times Parker's stayed at my apartment since Booth has been there." _Damn it_. She was usually very careful about keeping her own familial delusions carefully censored from conversation.

"Mhmm."

She drew loop-de-loop patterns in the ring of condensation on the table then looked up at Angela through her eyelashes. "I got him parking permits for my building," Brennan confessed in a rush.

Angela's eyebrows rose in disbelief. "I thought you said he wasn't living with you."

"He's not." She fiddled with her napkin then the discarded wrapper for her straw. "But I've been thinking about asking him to stay."

"You're going to ask him to move in?"

"Yes. I don't know...I'm not anxious for him to leave. I don't _need_ him there anymore. Truthfully, I didn't need him there before, but it was nice having him around when I was feeling especially bad. But now..."

"You can't imagine him not being there?"

"Right," she said quietly, eyes focused intently on the edge of her empty plate."

"Do you think it's time to admit there's something more to your relationship with Booth than you've been willing to see before?"

"I have _feelings_ for him. I'm just not sure what they are or what that means, exactly."

"That's a pretty big admission for you to make."

Brennan nodded. She was aware. But the more she considered him the more she realized the feelings he evoked in her were exclusive to him. She couldn't imagine anyone else eliciting the same reactions from her. Nor could she remember feeling anything remotely similar in the past. She'd been, at the time and with what she knew, in love with Michael. Then, later on, she'd cohabitated with a boyfriend or two but had always felt stifled somehow. For Sully she'd had a genuine affection. But with Booth, while she couldn't put too fine a point on her feelings, she knew there was something _greater_ there than she'd ever felt before.

"Part of me feels like all of this is happening insanely fast."

"Nothing about you and Booth has happened fast. Okay, so you're not quite four months pregnant. But several months before that you'd decided to have a baby. And a couple of months before that you two had talked about it. For four _years_ before that you'd been friends. Exactly how slowly should something progress, Bren?"

"I'm not sure. I just know it feels like I'm on one of those carnival rides...the ones that spin you around and tip you back and forth?"

"A tilt-o-whirl. Falling in love feels like that for everyone – even if it's an easy process."

"I'm still not sure I know what love is."

"I can't claim to know exactly what you're feeling but I'd put a bet on it being love. It's not rational, Bren. The heart wants who and what it wants. Sometimes it's the worst thing for us. But sometimes, sometimes, Sweetie, it's the best thing for us. You and Booth compliment each other in so many ways. The differences? Well, they have a way of working themselves out. You've just got to be open to it. Be open to the idea of him."

She had to get off that particular subject. It was causing an alarming tightness in her chest. "I got the decals about a month ago. I haven't been able to give them to him yet."

Brennan knew Angela was used to her non-sequiturs so she wasn't surprised when her friend glided to a new topic, smoothly, along with her. "Why not?"

"What if he says 'no'?"

"Do you honestly think Booth would tell you 'no'?"

"I think there are things for him to consider besides what _I'd_ like from him."

"There are, yes. But you're one of the most important people in the world to him. And Honey, that man _loves_ you. He'd do anything you asked of him and still keep trying to find ways to make you happy."

"You make him sound like an imbecile who just follows around in my wake."

"No. That's not it at all. He cares about you. Very much. If you want him to stay, you just have to tell him. Parking decals or not. He'd park out on the street for the rest of his days if you asked him to just because he'd rather be close to you than not."

"I feel quite strongly for him, too."

"I know. Give him the decals, though, Bren. It's a nice gesture."

"I...I think I'll do that."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"But Dad, all my stuff is at _your_ house."

"We can go get your toys and games." Booth spoke quietly to his son in hopes the boy, too, would lower his voice. He didn't want Brennan overhearing their conversation.

"And I want to sleep in my room. Bones isn't still sick, is she?"

"No, she's fine now."

"Then why can't we stay at your house?"

Booth couldn't help it, he felt selfish all of a sudden. He _had_ uprooted his son and just because he liked being with Brennan. In truth, he missed his bed as well. And his things. Her place was nice...but it wasn't _his_. She told him several times, in several ways, she wanted him to stay. But wanting him to stay and wanting him to move in were two completely different things.

"Okay," Booth relented, "we'll go home." So why, then, did doing the right thing for both his son and himself leave him feeling like a complete ass?

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Brennan rarely eavesdropped but she couldn't help but overhear the strident tones in Parker's voice. Booth and Parker were _leaving_. She felt like she was drowning. In her hands she clutched the parking decals she'd dug out of her bedside drawer. She looked down at them and tears flooded her eyes. She couldn't very well give them to him now. She couldn't ask him to stay. Parker was too important to him. And clearly Parker didn't want to be at her apartment anymore.

She wandered, in a fog, out to the couch and sat down heavily. _This_ was precisely why she didn't get attached to people. As soon as you become attached to people they leave. Without fail.

She heard Booth's bedroom door – no, not Booth's, she thought, the guestroom door – open and close and then his heavy footsteps move down the hall and into the living room. "Bones?"

She started to cry at the sound of her name. Her shoulders shook so that she couldn't hide it from him which made her cry harder.

He was sitting next to her and pulling her into his arms before she could stop him. "What's wrong?"

She couldn't answer, not without her voice shaking with the force of her tears, so she just shook her head.

"Well, something's wrong. You haven't had a lot of the crying sort of mood swings lately."

"It's nothing, Booth, I'm fine." Even she didn't believe that cover. But she pulled back from him and wiped her eyes with trembling fingers. "You two should go, if you're going."

He looked at her curiously. "So you overheard?"

"Yes."

"Is that what this is all about?" He gestured at her teary face.

"Of course not."

"Then why don't you tell me what has you upset."

She shrugged. "Commercial. Mood swing."

"The television's not even on, Bones," he said flatly.

"I saw the commercial earlier. Really, I'm fine. Please, Parker would like to go home."

She could see the anger rising in his face. "Why are you lying to me?"

"I'm not," she said simply. She'd begun to regain her composure and she felt ready to fight a battle if it came to it.

"You are," he countered. "You're clearly upset. Does it have something to do with Parker?"

"No! You should really get him home. It's almost dinner time." She'd made ravioli, one of Booth's and Parker's favorites. And the thought of them not being there to eat it made the tears begin anew.

"You're kicking us out before dinner?"

"He said he wants to go home. You said you'd take him. I don't understand where the confusion has happened."

"You're _mad_ at me for telling him I'd let him go _home_? Jesus, Bones, I didn't think you were that selfish." He stood with conviction. "Far be it for me to do what's best for my _son_."

She gasped with a mix of hurt and anger. "Far be it," she snapped. With a softer voice she said, "Do what you need to do for your family, Booth. It's okay. I understand."

"Damnit, Bones, you _are_ my family. You know that."

"No, I'm not. Not the way Parker is, anyway."

"Are you seriously asking me to choose between you and my son?"

"No. I'm telling you to do what your son needs you to do."

"But in a tone of voice that suggests I'd be abandoning you if I did."

"Everybody leaves eventually, Booth. And it's not like I won't see you Monday."

His face was so red she was beginning to worry about the state of his blood pressure. "Parker!" he called out loudly, his eyes still locked on hers. "Come on. We're going home."

Parker practically ran into the living room and barely spared her a glance. "Great, Dad. Come on!"

"I'll see you later, Parker," she said quietly.

"Yeah, Bones. Have a good weekend!"

Booth just stared at her harder, as though he wanted to say something but couldn't quite figure out how. So, instead, he stormed past her, picked up his keys from the basket by the front door and followed his son out into the hall.

When the door closed behind him, with some force, she finally exhaled. She flexed her fingers and the parking decals fluttered to the floor. She looked at them lying there. They said something profound to her, rumpled and creased, lying like bitter words on the floor.

Later, she's not sure how much later, the acrid smell of burning food wafted out to her. She sat down on her couch and cried. At some point she got up and turned the oven off, but she left the deadened food in its pan inside.

She slept out on the couch that night, fully dressed, unable to even pass the door to the room she'd begun to think of as his. The following day she was still sitting on the couch in the day before's clothing when there was a knock at the door. Right. Angela. Shopping. She forced herself up and answered the door.

"Sweetie," Angela said, aghast, "did you sleep in your clothes?"

Brennan didn't answer and Angela followed her into the living room and sat down next to her on the couch. "Where's Booth?"

"He went home." Her voice sounded raw. She supposed it was from all the crying.

Angela looked down and Brennan saw her notice the creased parking decals lying on the floor. "What happened?"

"Parker wanted to go home. So Booth took him." Angela nodded but Brennan could tell her friend didn't understand. "We _fought_ , Ange. Not the bickering we do and then it's all okay. We fought."

"You fought because Parker wanted to go home?" She could tell Angela was trying to figure out exactly what happened. She wished she could tell her.

"I don't know exactly what we fought about. But he _left_."

At Angela's gentle prodding Brennan recounted the conversation as word-for-word as she could. Finally her friend said, "It sounds like Booth was between a rock and a hard place, Bren."

"It was an easy decision. His son is his family and his son needed to be home. He did the right thing."

"Yeah, maybe he did do the right thing. But you're feeling hurt."

"It's irrational for me to feel hurt. He _should_ do what his son needs."

"Feelings aren't always rational. And it wasn't an easy decision for him, I can promise you that."

"How could you possibly know?"

"Because Booth is one of my friends too. He's incredibly loyal. Incredibly loving. If you'd have given him a chance he probably would have talked to you about it."

"It's better this way. He would have gone eventually."

"You know, Bren, I love you. I really do. But this defeatist attitude you've got going on? Well, it's starting to wear a little thin."

"There's a difference between defeatism and realism."

"Yes. There is. And you crossed the barrier between the two several hundred yards back. Not everyone is going to hurt you, Bren. Not on purpose, anyway. And allowing yourself to get close to someone isn't an automatic recipe for disaster."

"And how would I know that, Ange? I'm a scientist and all the evidence supports my hypothesis."

"You're going to _drive_ people away if you don't have a little faith in them. We've been friends for a long time. I haven't gone anywhere. I don't plan on going anywhere. There's not a whole lot you could do to kick me out of your life. You could try, but I'm like a burr. I'm attached to you. Booth's attached to you too. This fight? It'll pass. You two will talk and you'll end up stronger for it because you've come across an important issue and then discussed it."

"I let him leave here under the impression I was making him choose between me and Parker. I don't think there's any decision at all to be made there, Angela. He _should_ choose Parker. Every single time. The way I'd hope he'd choose our child as well. He's a good father."

"And this has nothing to do with whether or not he's a good father. Of course Booth is a good father. This has to do with you. Yes, he was upset. Yeah, he probably overreacted. But Brennan, you didn't leave him much choice. You pretty much told him to go. You can't tell someone to do one thing and expect them to do another. You have this way of sounding empirically right…even when you're dead wrong."

Brennan chuckled. "Are you trying to tell me I'm stubborn?"

"Yes," Angela laughed. "You _are_ stubborn. Give this situation a couple of days. Look at it as an opportunity to decide if you really are ready to ask him to stay and be a more permanent part of your life." Angela leaned over and picked up the parking decals from the floor. "And for heaven's sake, give these to Booth already."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

He felt about two inches tall. He'd hardly slept at all Friday and Saturday nights. By Sunday morning Parker was talking about Bones non-stop. "Parks," Booth asked his son while he was tying Parker's tie for church, "what would you think about taking some of your stuff over to Bones'."

Parker shrugged. "That'd be okay, I guess."

"That would mean sleeping at her house."

"Can I have my bed there?"

"I'd have to talk to her about that. I'm not sure there's room."

"But I could have my toys?"

"Yeah." Booth straightened the knot.

"Okay."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," the boy said with a firm nod. "You think she's mad at us?"

"Well," Booth hedged, "I think she's a little mad at me."

"If you want, you can tell her it's my fault."

Booth looked at his son wide-eyed then gathered him into a crushing hug. "You're a good kid, you know that?"

"Dad," Parker panted dramatically, "you're squishing me."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

She was sitting on the couch flipping mindlessly through awful late-Sunday-afternoon programming when Booth walked through the door. "So, Parker's in if we can bring his toys over here. I mean, he's eight, that's not a huge surprise. But he's asking about his bed and I don't know what to tell him." He flopped down on the sofa next to her, slipped the remote control out of her hand and turned off the TV.

"Booth?"

"Yeah?"

"What are you doing here?"

"I don't-live here, remember?"

"That's right. You _don't_ live here."

"I mean I don't-live-here live here. Bones, I've been staying for a couple of months. This is practically _home_ now. _You're_ home now." He placed his hand on her belly. "You, me, the baby, and Parker. That's what I need. Everything else is just shit, okay?"

"So we're not fighting anymore?"

"No." He shook his head and smiled. "That okay?"

"It's very okay," she sighed and hugged him.

As he held her he stroked her hair. "Now, about Parker's bed…"


	17. Week 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: This chapter when through six, count them six, revisions. More than any previous chapter. It was a bear to write for several reasons the most important was which it turned out to be a pretty important chapter and also because I had a hell of a week. I made you guys wait over a week for an update and for that I'm truly sorry.
> 
> Kerrison deserves high marks for this. She's definitely responsible for all the good in this chapter. All the bad? Well, that's all me. I took more of her lovely suggestion than I usually do, but then again I really needed more suggestion on this one than I've ever needed before…it just refused to come easily.
> 
> But it's here now and hopefully, it satisfies. Thank you all for your wonderful comments. They certainly to make it easier to keep plugging along.

" _Your baby's eyesight (and eyelashes!) is developing rapidly, but all you might be seeing in the mirror these days is a body that looks depressingly bulky."_

She laid several new outfits across the foot of her bed. She and Angela did quite a bit of shopping over the weekend. The most important parts of her new wardrobe were the bras she'd purchased. She was alarmed to discover an appallingly small selection of attractive maternity underwear. She supposed, by the time you were pregnant, underwear had less function as stimulation for the opposite sex. The truth was, though, her guilty pleasure had always been sexy under-things. Despite the small selection, however, she'd managed to find a few sets she felt good about wearing.

She was also alarmed to discover she'd gone up a full cup size. She'd previously been a very comfortable, and alluring if she thought so herself, C cup. But the new bra she'd just slid on, along with its three counterparts, was a very proud D. She'd selected panties to match each bra and made sure they'd either settle beneath the swell of her belly or, like the pair she'd selected to match the bra she was wearing, were lacy boy shorts that wore up over her swell comfortably. But she was aware she had precious little time with that as an option.

She was standing there, at the foot of her bed, dressed in the royal purple undergarments when Booth pushed into her bedroom holding her morning cup of tea. He gasped and stopped as soon as he saw her. She stilled, a hand outstretched toward the bed for one of the new dresses she'd bought.

"Oh, wow," he exhaled. From his vantage point, she knew, he was subjected to a view of her back and right profile. He'd be able to see the curve of her buttocks and the swelling of her belly.

Following last week's tryst on the couch she was far less concerned with preserving her modesty than she was before. And, in truth, it had been many weeks since she was very concerned with doing so at all. But despite the tryst she was feeling incredibly self conscious about the changes in her body. She knew it was ludicrous but she felt...fat. So when she snatched the dress off the end of the bed and drew it up in front of her while turning towards him her modestly was far less about exposing herself to him and more about covering up what she felt were the gross new proportions of her body.

"Booth!"

"I'm sorry," he muttered but didn't turn away. "I didn't think you'd be up yet."

"We have an appointment with Dr. Ashbacher at eight. Why wouldn't I be up?"

"Because usually I get you up. I bring you tea." He appeared slightly dumbfounded and she watched with fascination as he shifted his weight uncomfortably. "You look..." He trailed off and she took his sudden silence as confirmation of her own worries.

"I know. I'm getting fat. Well, it was to be expected, I suppose."

"Fat?" He shook his head. "You're not... Did you buy new clothes?"

Apparently he wasn't leaving so she lifted the dress and slipped it over her head. "Yes. Angela and I went shopping Saturday."

A look something akin to disappointment flashed across his face as the dress settled around her knees and she straightened it at her hips. "Good." He nodded entirely too emphatically, as far as she was concerned. "You needed new clothes."

"I did. Most of my previous wardrobe no longer fits comfortably."

He thrust the cup he was holding in her direction. "Here. Tea. I'm just going to..." he nodded back towards the hall and escaped the moment she took the tea cup from him.

Great, she thought, she was so disgusting he couldn't even look at her semi-nude. That didn't bode well for the sexual relationship she thought they were finally beginning. She slipped on the matching cardigan sweater and shoes then looked at herself in the full length mirror on the back of her closet door. She seemed wider through the hips. And the swell of her stomach looked less like pregnancy and more like she'd overindulged on Thanksgiving. Her face appeared slightly rounder to her as well. She may have had on the sexy underwear but she didn't feel sexy at all.

By the time she joined Booth in the kitchen she was working her way up to a serious funk. She'd never been overly concerned with her appearance but, then again, she'd never had any real reason to be. She'd always been well proportioned and she tried to keep fit. She had pleasing features. She'd always been at least marginally aware she was attractive. But pregnancy didn't appear to agree with her – physically anyway.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

He'd corralled her into his SUV after a terse breakfast. He'd tried to make conversation, stilted as it was, but she was too caught up in her own thoughts to hold up her half of the bargain. But when he'd attempted several more times to open a conversation while still sounding clipped and agitated she'd finally shook off her own reverie and asked him, "Booth, what's your problem?"

"I don't have a problem."

"Well you sound as if you're upset with me for some reason. I'm not sure what I've done."

He looked genuinely confused. "I'm not upset with you."

"Then why haven't you been able to look me in the eye since breakfast? And every time you try to talk to me you sound like you're barely containing anger."

He sighed dramatically. "I'm not angry with you, okay?"

"Fine," she harrumphed, "don't tell me."

"Well, you don't have to get snippy with me."

"I'm not getting snippy. Truthfully things haven't been right since you came back Sunday night."

"Do you really want to get into this now?" he asked as he pulled the SUV in the doctor's parking lot.

"Get into it? You make it sound as if it's going to be an argument."

"Well, I think we need to talk about what happened this weekend."

She nodded, "That would be a good idea."

"Okay. So, do you really want to get into it now?"

"It can wait," she said tersely. "Tonight. At home."

He'd climbed out of the SUV and was following her towards the glass doors into the office but he stopped in his tracks. Tonight? At home? She couldn't just let words like that fall out of her mouth. It was going to make him crazy.

It seemed she was on a mission to make him crazy lately. He'd had a tenuous grip on reality when he'd gotten out of bed that morning. Then he'd walked into her bedroom and she'd been standing there in _lingerie_. He remembered Rebecca's pregnancy underwear. It wasn't anything like that silk and lace confection Brennan had covered her body in that morning. It highlighted her breasts and tummy in a way that gave him no other choice than to appreciate them.

But then she'd fed him some line about being fat. She couldn't possibly think that, could she? She was freaking gorgeous. She had to know that. After what had happened on the couch she couldn't possibly think for a moment he didn't find everything about her completely sexy. Was he really missing the mark?

Their...disagreement...over the weekend hadn't helped matters at all. And while she'd accepted him back quickly – more quickly than he ever imagined she would – there's not a single part of him that believed the situation was over. No, he was sure she'd have plenty to say on the subject. And, truthfully, he did to.

But he had hope because just a moment ago she'd said 'home'. They were going to talk about it later that night at 'home'. And for all the wrong they'd done to each other over the weekend he figured there was hope.

Later that night he waited patiently while she changed out of crime-scene-wrinkled clothing and into yet another sleep set designed to drive him out of his head with lust. It clung at her breasts and belly and was obviously a pre-pregnancy item of her wardrobe. But it looked fantastic on her.

After an obscene amount of time he was able to pull his eyes away from the enticingly larger parts of her. She sat next to him on the couch, facing him, legs twisted up in front of her in a pretzel he had no doubt she'd long ago perfected in her yoga studies.

"We're home. We can 'get into it' now."

He sighed heavily and grasped the back of his neck, willing himself to find the patience and courage to get through the conversation without either throttling her or giving into the more basal instincts her presence seemed to evoke. "I want to talk about what happened Friday night."

It was her turn to sigh. She fiddled with just about every nub or loose string on the couch she could get her fingers on before she finally answered. "You did the right thing."

He nodded. "In a way. But I shouldn't have left the way I did. Not when I did, anyway."

"I wasn't trying to make you choose between me and Parker." She paused and searched his eyes. "Honestly, Booth, I wasn't. You couldn't help the fact he wanted to go home. He's just a child. It's reasonable he'd want his own things around."

"I was trying to work out the details, you know? He reached out to her and grasped her hand. "I'd never just leave you, Bones."

She shook her head sadly. "I want to believe that. But it's very difficult. I've had little evidence to the contrary." He pulled a face and she continued. "Not necessarily evidence from you, though your leaving Friday night didn't disprove my theory." She squeezed his hand tightly but he had the feeling she didn't realize she was doing it. "And no matter how it sounded that night, I don't begrudge you doing what's best for your son."

"And I'm going to do what's best for our baby too." He studied her for a moment wondering if he should say what was really on his mind. "You could have just gone with us. I waited, downstairs in the car, for twenty minutes just to see if you'd come down." He paused and slipped the hem of her shorts between his thumb and middle finger. "I figured even if you'd yell at me at least you were there and I could have asked you to come home with us."

She didn't yet seem compelled to speak so he continued, "Besides, fighting in front of the kids? Never a good idea."

"I wouldn't fight with you in front of Parker," she whispered.

"Yet one more reason you're going to be a great mom, Bones."

She opened her mouth to speak but hung there, as if the words themselves had chosen not to pass through her lips. She closed her mouth and huffed and then tried again with the same result. Finally she settled on, "I've spent the better part of my life making decisions for myself. Alone. Knowing that the things I did, the personal decisions I made, didn't overly affect the lives of those around me."

"You've got a family now, Bones, for better or for worse _that's_ the life you've created for yourself. And family means _every single decision_ affects somebody else."

Quietly she said, "I don't remember how to be part of a family, Booth."

He could tell the admission was not an easy one to make. She rarely had to admit deficiency and it always left a bitter taste in her mouth. "You remember, Bones, you're just out of practice. Maybe you just need a refresher course. Lesson Number One: Everything you do or say changes my world, even if it's just a little bit. Most of the changes? Hell," he chuckled, "you keep me on my toes." He waited for her grin and she didn't disappoint him. "It works the other way too. From the moment we decided to have a kid together every decision I've made and will make in the future impacts your world – even if it's just a little bit. We're family. That's just the way it works."

"Then what is lesson number two?"

"One thing at a time. You learn. Then, then you practice. I'll let you know what lesson two is next time it comes up."

He turned on the couch until he mimicked her position as closely as his body would allow then grasped her by the knees and pulled her toward him until their knees touched. "I made a bad decision Friday night when I left here like that. How did it affect you?"

"I burned dinner," she said but never met his eyes.

"Okay. What else?"

She reached out and fingered the dark hairs on his thigh visible between the bend of his leg and his running shorts. "I slept on the couch."

That surprised him. "Why?" He forced himself to play it cool, not to react, even as his eyebrows itched to kiss his hairline.

She hemmed and hedged, unconsciously chewing her lip, until he drew a line down her forearm with his short fingernail, pushing her into her admission. "I couldn't walk by your room."

"Oh, Bones," he said on an exhale and reached out to pull her to him by her shoulders. Their folded-up legs between them made the embrace awkward but they didn't separate. "I couldn't sleep at all while I was at home." He stroked her hair. "You've gotta have a little more faith in me. I'm not going to walk out on you. That's not who I am and you _know_ that."

"But you _did_ walk out," she said earnestly.

"Not that kind of walk out. We're going to fight once or twice over the course of our lives. We're about to have a baby; it's going to happen. We won't always agree and sometimes I'll storm out or sometimes you will. But what's important is that we come back. I'm always coming back." He pulled back from her and tipped her chin up until he could look in her eyes. "You got that? I'm always coming back. I'm with you," he finally told her again, "and I'm not going anywhere."

"You're with me?" she questioned.

"Yeah," he nodded.

"And you're not going anywhere?"

"Nope."

She nodded. "I'm looking forward to that."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"I thought what we'd do was move the office into the great room."

He looked up from the newspaper. "You know, I never did understand why your apartment has two living rooms."

She shrugged. "It's a big apartment."

"Mmm," he mumbled in agreement and flicked his eyes back to the sports scores.

She set her cross-stitch on the coffee table in front of them. "Don't you want to know _why_ I thought we'd move the office to the great room?"

"Okay, Bones, I'll bite."

She shook her head, "I don't know what that means."

"Why are we moving the office into the great room?" His voice was laced with practiced patience.

"Well, the room I'm using as the office now is rather small, but it has a door. I thought we could put Parker's bed in there. And his…things."

He folded the paper up and looked over at her. "Yeah?"

Even she knew the conversation was about more than whether or not Parker had his own bed in her apartment. It wasn't really about that at all. It was about her asking them to stay. An honest admission of her very real desire to keep them close. "Yes. I think that would be the best course of action." She hesitated then asked with far less confidence than she'd started the conversation with, "Don't you?"

"I think…" He stopped and appeared to be collecting his thoughts. "I know you always give things the thought you think they deserve. But…now this is out there, you know? You've said it out loud. I want you to think about it some more. Take your time – whether that's an hour or a week or a month – and then we'll talk about it again. You've got to be sure about this. This is me and my son. In your life. In a way we haven't been before."

She wasn't sure how to take his answer. Was he interested in the solution she proposed? He must be or he wouldn't have told her to really consider what she was offering. But a little niggle of doubt wiggled its way into her head.

The following night, what would have been just any other Thursday, while he was sitting on the couch watching CNN she stood in front of him, blocking his view of the television. "Bones?"

She extended her hand and waited for him to reach toward the offering. "I thought about it." She dropped the parking decals into his hand.

He looked down at the pieces of vinyl. "These are parking stickers."

She nodded. "Yes."

"For your building."

She nodded again. "Yes."

"We do this, Bones, you can't go kicking me out in a week or month or on some hormone-crazed weekend when I've pissed you off."

"Sublet your apartment, Booth." She gave him a small nervous, but hopeful, smile.

A wide grin split his face and he pulled her down and into his side the way he'd been doing for weeks. She curled up against him comfortably, tucking herself against him in the space underneath his arm and against his ribs she'd begun to irrationally think of as 'hers'. "Guess this means I don't have to park on the street anymore, huh?" His voice was light and teasing.

She, however, grew serious. "Is this what you want? I know it means a big change for you. And I'm sure you'll need to talk with Rebecca and Parker."

"I already have a little, considering the arrangement of the last couple of months. But I'll need to talk with them some more. But, change is good, isn't that what you're always telling me? From an anthropological standpoint?"

"But I'm not talking about anthropology. I'm talking about…us. I'm talking about you giving up your home and moving into a room here."

"You think I'm not at home here? I've been here for two months."

"But right now you could leave, if you really wanted to. If you move in here then what will you do if you change your mind?"

He looked down at her where here head rested on his shoulder. "Change my mind? Geez, Bones, it's a little late for that now, don't you think? You're sixteen weeks pregnant."

"I don't mean changing your mind about the baby. What if you change your mind about living here? We're not…" she floundered for the right words. "I know…well, some things…" She huffed and he chuckled. The vibrations traveled across him, through her Zygomatic arch and into the base of her Occipital bone, creating a warm tingle of awareness in her. "We've kissed. And we…" she gestured to the other end of the couch and blushed. "But we're not in a relationship. It's not only possible, but probable, you'll meet someone and want to start a relationship."

He smoothed his hand down the back of her head soothingly. "Do you still honestly believe there's any credible way to make an argument that we're _not_ in a relationship. What exactly do you think a relationship is?"

"Caring about someone is different than being in a romantic relationship with someone. Honestly, I'd have thought you'd have known that."

"I _do_ know that. Do you?"

She hummed and snuggled closer into his embrace. She considered his question while he watched CNN in silence. She did know there was a difference between caring about someone and being in a romantic relationship. If she were honest with herself, her relationship with Booth – these simple moments in his arms watching CNN on her couch – was more in line with her childhood visions of a relationship, rather than anything she'd had with previous lovers. She, with her admittedly stunted experience with conventional relationships, could see there was something more between them than the trappings of a close friendship.

So which ideal was correct? The tense and often troublesome sexual relationships she'd indulged in as an adult or the patient and time-weathered relationship she had with Booth?

A commercial came on and he picked up the remote and muted the television, startling her out of her reverie. A quick glance at his face revealed a smirk and a twinkle in his eyes. "Before, did I imagine it or did you really say anthropology didn't apply to us?"

She levered up from his chest with one hand pressing against his right pectoral muscle. "Even _I_ have the ability to see things on a more personalized level than societal constructs, Booth. I'm a scientist, not a walking text-book."

"I know," he soothed and pulled her back down against him. "Sometimes you just surprise me. Glad I'm more than a societal construct, Bones."

"Sometimes you surprise me, too," she said quietly then picked the remote up off his thigh and turned the sound back up on the news.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Usually he had to be dragged to a club or a bar. He liked to go drinking on his own terms and he liked to do it at his own haunts. He'd long since discovered, though, Angela had no problem dragging him to whatever bar she'd selected as the next company gathering spot.

As he looked around he decided this particular choice wasn't so bad. There was no dance floor. Every one in the room appeared to be either in their late twenties or older. The bartender knew better than to grab for the bottles beneath the bar when Booth ordered: "Scotch. Neat." He could appreciate a good bar tender.

A few seats away Brennan was chatting animatedly with Cam and Angela and was looking, for the first time in several weeks, carefree and happy. On his right, Hodgins was sneaking glances at Angela. On his left, Sweets had moved on to the soliloquy portion of the evening.

"How are things going with you two?" Booth asked Hodgins in the midst of one of Sweets' long-winded pontifications.

"Well," Hodgins said wryly, "I wouldn't complain if she looked at me the way that sexy redhead at the end of the bar is looking at you."

Booth glanced down at the woman Hodgins referenced and gave her a small, if uninterested, smile in response to her smoldering glance. Then he looked back at Hodgins. "I'm as good as off the market, as far as I'm concerned." He spun his glass on the bar the tucked his shoulders up around his ears. "She asked me to move in."

At that Sweets stopped his monologue. "Dr. Brennan asked you to _move in_. Dude, that's huge!"

Booth nodded and knocked back what was left of his Scotch. "Yup." He popped his "p" as if making a point.

"So are we moving you this weekend, Man?" Hodgins had a sly grin on his face.

"We're just moving Parker's stuff this weekend. It's going to take some time to sublet my apartment so I don't think I need to rush too much. Besides," he shrugged, "most of it will go into storage anyway."

"Nigel-Murray and Edison are both looking for a place. Your apartment has two bedrooms, right?"

Booth nodded. That could work. "Give 'em my number. We'll see what we can do."

The redhead from the end of the bar was gone, Booth noted. He looked over and Brennan had stopped talking to the other women and was staring at a point just over his shoulder. He looked back behind him. Redhead. Killer dress. Smokin' curves. Damn.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

She'd watched the woman eye Booth all evening. Then the woman had crossed from her place at the end of the bar to stand directly behind him. Objectively Brennan could say the woman was beautiful. Sexy even. But a part of her she'd become more acquainted with since her partnership with Booth began simmer with an emotion she could only call jealousy.

She wrinkled her nose with disgust.

When he looked behind him at the woman her stomach clenched with trepidation. Then he swiveled his barstool around until he was facing the woman. They talked for just a few moments, probably not even a full minute. The woman handed him a business card, touched his bicep, gave him a flirtatious smile and walked away.

She watched with satisfaction as Booth slid the business card into draining trench that ran along the far side of the bar. But that woman was precisely the sort of woman she'd have picked out for Booth if it were demanded she do so.

Not long after, she watched Booth say his goodbyes to the guys then came over to urge her away from the ladies. He hugged both Cam and Angela goodnight then ran a finger down the back of her arm lightly before tucking his fingers between her ribcage and her arm to steer her out of the much-busier-than-when-they-arrived club. She let him help her into the SUV – something she'd needed a little help with since her center of gravity started to change – despite the fact it irked her a little to do so.

He didn't say anything about the woman in the bar and she had to force herself not to bring it up. It was a losing battle, though: about six blocks from her apartment curiosity beat out discretion. "Why did you throw away that woman's business card?"

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "She wasn't a business contact."

She scoffed. "Of course she wasn't. It was clear she was making a sexual advance toward you."

He glanced over at her quickly then back at the unusually heavy traffic. "And you're asking me why I threw her card away?" He shook his head. "Jesus, Bones, you just asked me to move in."

"That is correct. However, you do still have your own apartment if you required privacy."

They stopped at a traffic light with a jolt. "You're telling me it would be okay with you if I'd gone home with that woman tonight."

She shrugged. "Why shouldn't I be?" But her voices sounded forced even to herself. "It's not as if I have any claim over you. And you're a healthy, relatively young male. It stands to reason you'd either desire or require sexual contact."

"Sexual contact?" he spit. "What would you call that little episode on your couch last week if not 'sexual contact'?" His hands clenched tensely on the steering wheel and his jaw ticked in the way it usually did when he was angry.

"We didn't have intercourse, Booth."

"It may not have been intercourse but it was sure as hell sexual, Bones, and you know it." He pulled into the parking garage for her building and waited for the gateman to wave him through. "I held you in my arms while you came," he said darkly. "Twice. Once with your thighs _gripping_ my hips. Don't tell me that wasn't sexual."

"I can't give you what you want. You want love. I'm not sure I know how to give you any more of that than I've already given you. I love you, of course I do. You're my best friend. But I'm not sure what comes after that. I don't know what more I need to do for you to allow a sexual relationship between us."

"I need you to admit there's something emotional to our relationship that supersedes friendship. _I_ know better than you do how you feel about me. I'm just waiting for you to catch up."

She thought that was awfully presumptuous of him but she stormed on, "Well if you're so sure I love you in the right way why won't you have sex with me?" She punctuated her questions with the slamming of her car door. He was parked right next to her and it felt intimate in a strange sort of way to see both her parking spots filled

"Because," he half-shouted, slamming his own door, "I want to be sure _you_ understand. I can't start something with you thinking it's one thing then find out its something else."

"All relationships start as one thing and end up as something else, Booth. It's naive to think ours would be any different. You're the one who knows about relationships." She strode into the building and punched the button for the elevator. "I think you won't have sex with me because you are as disgusted with the way I look as I am."

Was she serious? The elevator doors slid open and she marched inside. He stood in the lobby gaping at her until the doors started to slide closed and he surged into the car. "Disgusted?" he asked incredulously.

She crossed her arms in front of her chest, resting them on her swelling stomach below her breasts. "I saw that woman in the bar tonight. She was beautiful. You can't tell me you didn't notice her too."

Even her own head was spinning from leaping from one topic to another so she had a little sympathy for the look of confusion on his face. "What does she have to do with you?"

"Sex, Booth. You could have gone home with her and had sex with her." She dropped her head to stare at the tiled elevator floor. "She had a perfect body."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The elevator reached her floor and dinged as the doors slid open. Booth fished his keys out of his pocked and held the door open for her then flicked the locks behind them both once inside.

He watched as she slipped off the cardigan sweater she'd been wearing and her curvaceous body was revealed. As far as he was concerned _she_ had the perfect body – both before she got pregnant and now that she was ripe and opulent with his baby inside her. He thought he'd made himself clear on the subject but it was becoming apparent he was wrong.

She'd started moving towards the hall to her bedroom when he snagged her arm. "Wait a sec, Bones." He dragged her back to the living room and pushed on her shoulders until she sat on the couch. He pulled the coffee table a little closer and sat on the edge so he could rest his elbows on his thighs while he held her hands.

"I'm going to say this, and I'm going to _keep_ saying it until you understand. What's happening to you, the changes you seem to think are disgusting? They are incredibly sexy to me. He dropped his eyes to her belly and couldn't help dropping one of her hands to reach out and caress the swell. "This? Right here where our baby lives? That's the sexiest part of you. The part you're calling fat? I can't keep my eyes off it."

He raised his hand to hover over her swollen breasts and brushed the backs of his fingers over the uppermost part of the swell. She shuddered and he smiled. "And you've gotten bigger here too and it's so…" he exhaled with force, "so, fucking sexy, Bones. God, how can you not see it?

"So why didn't I go home with that woman tonight? Because she didn't hold a candle to you. You want to talk curves? Well, Babe, you've got all the right ones as far as I'm concerned." His voice hushed with awe. "And the best part? _I_ did this to you."

"Well," she said shakily, "technically a doctor did this to me…"

He growled low in the back of his throat, grasped the back of her neck and pulled her close to him, " _I_ did this. Me. _My_ seed, in _your_ body. Got it?"

She nodded a little. "It's not logical, but when you say it like that it _does_ sound a little sexy."

"Damn right," he said and crushed his lips to hers. She moaned and he pushed his tongue inside her mouth to flick the tip against her incisors then to toy with the sensitive tip of her tongue. He was hard and a little dizzy from the rush of the blood to his groin so he pulled her hand down to his hard bulge. "Believe me," he said cupping her hand around and pressing it into him, "when I tell you you're sexy."

She gasped at the feel of him and her fingers twitched between his and his erection. "Please, Booth," she moaned with a needy little breath.

They were both panting, taking in more of the carbon dioxide the other was expelling than fresh oxygen. "I didn't want to fuck that other woman, Bones, and I don't want to fuck you. When we do it we're going to do it right."

She stroked him through his pants and he groaned, tucking his head into the crook of her neck. His hips pushed forward into her hand as his tongue drew a path up to her earlobe.

"So," she asked with more confidence than he'd heard from her all night, "you really think I'm sexy?"

"God, yes," he breathed and captured her lips in another heated kiss.

After several minutes of earth shattering kisses he pulled back from her and walked her down the hall to her bedroom. Her lips searched his out again and he indulged her once more. Twice. Kept indulging her until his resolve started to slip. He pulled back from her again and gave her a gentle push through her bedroom door. She stood just over the threshold with a slightly shocked look on her face. "Goodnight, Bones," he whispered then turned and went to bed. Alone.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Brennan carefully packed a shelf full of books into boxes. As she'd tape the tops closed Booth would move them out into the living room. "And you're sure Rebecca is all right with this?" she asked as she taped up the flaps of another box.

"She was surprisingly okay, with it, actually."

"And Parker?"

"I'm telling you, Bones, it was his idea. All the kid really wanted was his bed and his toys. You've made his day, giving him a room."

"It's nothing, really."

He stopped stripping the sheets off his son's twin size bed and turned towards her. "It's a big something. We're moving into your apartment. That's a pretty big development for the Booth Men."

She chuckled. "It's a pretty big development for me, too." She stood up and started to pick up the last box of books and huffed when Booth waved her off with a glare. "Rebecca didn't have anything to say about this?"

"Oh, she had plenty to say. Most of it revolved around the phrase 'It's about damn time'."

"She and Angela should get together for coffee, then. I'm sure they'd have a lot to talk about," she said dryly. Did _everyone_ believe there was something more to her relationship with Booth before the pregnancy? Instead she said, "I don't want her to think I'm trying to usurp her familial role."

"She doesn't think that."

"How can you be sure?"

"Rebecca likes you. She may not know you that well, but she likes you. You love her son. That's really all it takes to get on a mother's good side. And Parker's crazy about you. That helps, as well."

"I think I'd like to get to know her better," she said. "I'll admit, when you and I first became partners, I didn't think I'd like her."

"Things were different then," he said while reaching up to the top of a tall cabinet to grab some board games. "She and I argued more. She used Parker as a bargaining tool sometimes and treated me like a babysitter instead of his father. But things are a lot better now. She and I are further removed from our relationship so some of the anger is gone. Eventually we just agreed it would be better for everyone if we could be friends. She's a good person. She always was, even when she was making bad choices. I'd never doubt she'd do what's best for Parker."

"And she knows you'd do what's best for him as well."

"Right. And what's best for us is moving into your place. Parker's going to want to spend time with his little brother or sister."

Booth sat down on the bare mattress of the bed and motioned her closer. When she was standing directly in front of him he palmed her stomach. "In a month we'll know if it's a boy or a girl."

She nodded. "We will."

"Have you decided what you want?"

She knew what he was asking, but she was feeling playful so she quipped, "I was hoping for human. Though, there are several other species that have extremely intelligent offspring…"

"Boy or girl, Bones?" he asked with a grin.

"I think," she hesitated and stared down at his hand on her stomach. "I think I'd like a boy."

"Hmmm," he nodded. "I figured."

"And you?"

"I want a girl. I've got a son, and it's fantastic. But it would be nice to have a daughter."

"Would you be disappointed if we had a boy?"

He looked up at her warmly. "No. Of course not. As long as we have a healthy baby it doesn't matter."

She nodded. "You know," she said conversationally, "Seeley is a unisex name…"

"Oh no you don't. You got me in the gut with the naming a boy 'Seeley' thing so it's not like I could exercise my hard won naming-rights. But I'm picking the girl's name."

She laughed and pretended to be irritated with him, "Fine."

"Come on. Hodgins will be here with the truck in an hour. We've still got more packing to do."

Sunday evening she went out to pick up a few items for Parker's room. She discovered she'd need a door stop to protect the wall from a rowdy young boy and that a shorter occupant meant a need for an additional, and lower, clothing rod in the closet. She'd also bought a nightlight for the room, afraid the young boy might be afraid if he were to wake up in a strange place in the middle of the night and not be able to see his surroundings. By the time they'd finished moving Parker's things in and her things out the day before neither she nor Booth felt like going out.

When got home, the radio was tuned to the Seventies station Booth seemed to prefer while cooking. The heavenly scent wafting around her apartment suggested he was making Ratatouille.

She set her bags down in the living room and wandered toward the kitchen. He was dressed as he usually was for cooking: t-shirt, jeans and bare feet. She leaned against the door jamb and watched him move.

She loved to watch him cook. He was comfortable in the kitchen and made cooking seem incredibly sexy. Then again, it had been a long time since she'd though of him in any other way. Sexy. She knew it was due to her hormones, in part. She'd suspected for a while there was something else there as well.

They'd done a lot of talking and she'd done a lot of thinking. She was certainly developing feelings for the man that couldn't be described as 'platonic'. She felt uneasy about the feelings and refused to acknowledge the true extent of them when he brought it up. But they were there; always pushing at the surface of her, begging for release, demanding they no longer be denied.

"It's a good thing I don't have hang-ups about being watched," he said without turning around.

She blushed but was pleased to hear a smile in his voice. "I'm not sure you have any 'hang-ups', as you call them."

He wiped his hands on a dishtowel and turned towards her. "Sure I do."

"For example…" she led.

"I can't stand people who salt their watermelon." He gave her a lopsided grin.

"I'm not sure that qualifies." His grin widened. Behind her the song changed and he advanced toward her with his hand extended. "What?"

"Dance with me."

"This isn't dancing music," she protested as his hand grasped hers and pulled her toward him.

"I beg to differ." His large hand settled on her waist and his thumb made distracting circles just about the waistband of her new maternity jeans. He drew their clasped hands up and over his heart and she let the fingers of her other hand skim across the dip of his spine before settling her hand over his scapula.

"I don't know this song," she chuckled as he started shifting them back and forth.

" _You're having my baby_ ," he sang softly along with the radio. " _The seed inside you, Baby, do you feel it growing?_ "

She listened as he danced her in a slow circle. _You're having my baby. What a lovely way of saying how much you love me. You're having my baby. What a lovely way of saying what you're thinking of me…_ She was stunned by the words. Is that how he felt? _You're a woman in love and I love what it's doin' to ya._ Was she a woman in love? She didn't know. She lost the thread of the lyrics even though he continued to sing them softly in her ear.

Her heart started to race. No, she thought, it was a song. He wasn't trying to say something to her, was he? Of course he was, she countered herself, it was Booth. He was always trying to say something. She continued to dance with him but her mind was a million miles away. She was startled when he spun her out away from him then pulled her back into a warm embrace.

"Thank you," he said and pressed kiss to the top of her head.

"You're welcome," she mumbled into his chest even though she wasn't completely sure what he was thanking her for – the dance or the baby. One was easy. The other was…harder, somehow. She took a head-clearing step away from him. "Do you really feel that having your baby is a good way for me to tell you how I feel about you?"

He moved away from her and stirred his sauce on the stove. She felt…bereft…at the loss of him and 'bereft' wasn't an emotion she usually felt. "There are two things a woman can do for a man that have the ability to shake him to the soul." He wasn't looking at her at all and that was strange. When he was trying to make a point of the heart his eyes usually searched hers.

"She can take his name as her own and she can give him a child." He cleared his throat.

"I do…" she trailed off trying to figure out how to tell him how she felt even if she could only admit part of it. "I feel very strongly for you, Booth. I hope you know that."

He turned back to her with a disappointed look which he quickly covered with patience. "I feel very strongly for you, too, Bones."

She nodded. It wasn't the declaration he was waiting for her to give but it was a start. And it warmed her more than she thought it would to hear him return the sentiment. It was as close as she'd ever come to telling a man she loved him. She only hoped he understood the significance.


	18. Week 17, Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: I feel like this is so much shorter than it should have been considering the amount of time I asked everyone to wait for it. But, don't worry. This is only the first half of Week 17. It was getting very long. I wrote this…a while ago. I'm not yet happy with the trip to Russ's & Amy's and I've got some fantastic ideas for the stay while they're there that just haven't got all the kinks worked out. But, I'm writing again. To me, that's big news and it feels like it's been a long time in coming.
> 
> This chapter was beta'd by the lovely Kerrison – who gave me the time and space I needed when I couldn't even hear about writing this story. Also, cathmarchr was kind enough to pick up some beta duties when I started pulling my hair out over this chapter (and the next). If it's good, you've got those ladies to thank. If it's not, well, blame my brain and no one else's.
> 
> Most importantly, thank you everyone who's asked after this story (and me). I'm so glad you didn't all head for the hills while I took my unplanned hiatus. Hope you all continue to enjoy the story!

" _Now that you're starting to show, chances are that friends, coworkers, and even strangers may feel the urge to reach out and touch your belly."_

Tuesday evening they were sitting on the couch and he was rubbing her feet. "What about Annabel?"

She shrugged and stretched. "It's better than Bethany."

"Bethany is a nice name," he said with a squeeze to her left arch.

"It is," she conceded. "But Bethany Booth? It's just a little much. Besides we're supposed to be talking about the trip to Russ's & Amy's this weekend, not baby names. She wiggled her neglected foot at him until he relented and took up the massage with that fidgety foot. "Rebecca doesn't mind if we leave early on Friday?"

"It's a half day at school – in-service or something. Parker will be getting out at twelve-thirty." He rubbed tight circles on the ball of her foot.

"And there's no problem with you leaving that early?"

"I should be asking _you_ that."

"I've been planning appropriately," she said haughtily.

"I'm sure you have," he returned with a smirk.

She poked him in the ribs with her toes. "If we leave by two we'll be there in time for dinner."

He grinned at her. "Far be it for me to postpone your feeding schedule." She jabbed him with her toes again and he yelped for effect. "God forbid I'm trapped in the car with both a hungry pregnant woman and eight year old boy." He slid a hand between his ribs and her foot before he continued, "And could you _be_ anymore fixated on food?"

She arched an eyebrow at him, so he ducked his head and continued to rub her feet as she relaxed into the couch. She looked down her body to her feet in her partner's lap and noticed how her position really highlighted what Angela kept calling her 'baby bump'. She couldn't help running her hands over the swell. She felt the moment Booth's hands abandoned their healing pressures and took up a more sensual style. When she looked up at his face she saw that darkened look she'd come to expect from him. She still had trouble believing it, but her pregnancy _aroused_ him.

"You've been looking at me like _that_ a lot lately."

"Like what?" he asked innocently.

"As if you could... _devour_ me."

He waggled his eyebrows wolfishly. "That's certainly one way to put it." But then his face grew serious and drew her attention back to his dilated pupils. "You're pregnant, Bones, what can I say?"

"Do you have a fetish concerning pregnant woman I should be aware of?"

He blushed. "No!"

"Yet your previous answer was that I was pregnant – as if it were a foregone conclusion you'd be attracted to a woman in that state."

"Not _a_ woman. You."

Heat bloomed through her and she brushed the side of one foot softly against his groin. He wasn't completely hard but she could feel the beginnings of an erection against her arch.

"Bones," he groaned, "what are you doing?"

She'd intended to toss him a flirty retort but she'd ended up with a needy whine, "I can't help it when you look at me that way."

He didn't answer her but his eyes hardened just a fraction. Instead, he dropped the foot he was holding and reached up to push her shirt until it bunched up under her breasts, leaving her belly exposed. He laid a large, warm palm on her stomach, then didn't move.

The skin beneath his hand tingled with awareness and her breathing became shallow, despite her attempts to maintain her composure. "Booth," she finally asked, "what are you doing?"

"Trying to feel the baby move."

" _I_ can't even feel the baby move yet." She shrugged. "But I should be able to feel it soon. And after me, you'll be the first to know." She tilted her head and regarded him carefully. "Can I ask _why_ you're trying to feel the baby move?"

"Distraction," he muttered.

"Distraction?" She quirked an eyebrow at him. She felt like she'd missed a crucial part of the conversation.

He huffed. "I need a distraction. This is a good one. Now, be quiet and let me concentrate."

She laughed so hard that he pressed his hand against her tighter to keep from being dislodged. "If you are requiring a distraction, does that mean you're considering lifting your ban on sexual intercourse?"

"No. It means that you're driving me crazy." She'd started inching her foot across his lap again and he grabbed her at the ankle. "Stop it."

"But I don't want to stop it," she husked. She pressed the pad of her thumb against the short clipped nails of the hand that rested on her belly and circled his knuckles with the tips of her fingers. "Do you have any idea what it feels like to have these hormones coursing through my body?"

"Obviously the answer to that question is 'no'. But I know what it's like to be in a constant state of arousal. I _was_ a teenage boy once. But you know how I feel about this."

She nodded. She _did_ know how he felt about it. All he wanted from her was an admission that there was an emotional component to their relationship that superseded friendship. She knew what she was feeling for him wasn't just friendship. She'd known that for a while. She knew she wanted him there, she knew he was the best friend she'd ever had, and she knew she wanted to have and raise a child with him. What she didn't know was why she was having so much trouble expressing herself in a way that he could understand and accept.

She knew, from prior experience, if something happened to him she could outwardly compartmentalize to the point the people around her would suspect she had the ability to be cold and unfeeling. But she remembered what it was like when she found out he was dead. She remembered night after night of sitting on her couch staring at a point on the wall unable to contemplate what could possibly come next if he wasn't there to share it with her.

She remembered the lengths she was willing to go to, and the lengths she was willing to force other people to go, when he was in danger. She knew the feeling of terror that came with the knowledge that something catastrophic could happen to him.

If she knew those things, she had to deduce she felt _love_ for him.

But they were friends. How could she possibly say those feelings were anything different than she'd feel for any of her other close friends?

Was the difference merely sexual attraction? And if that's all there was that bridged the gap between friendship and a potential relationship, what exactly was Booth looking for? He knew the extent of their friendship. He knew she was sexually attracted to him. What more was there?

She looked over at his face and saw he was staring at her intently. He gaze would shift meaningfully from her eyes to where his hand rested on her belly then back up again to her eyes. She reveled in the attention for a moment then finally, when she became uncomfortable under the scrutiny, she smoothed her shirt back down over her torso effectively dislodging his hand. "I'm honestly not sure what I'm supposed to be telling you. You know you're my closest friend, don't you?"

He nodded. "Yeah, I do."

"I've thought about this at length. You want me to say there's more to our relationship than friendship. How would I know? The only difference, as far as I can tell, between a friendship with someone and a relationship with someone is the addition of a sexual element. You want me to tell you I love you. Well, I do. Of course I do. And you know that. We've both said the words to each other before. And I think I've...proved...that to you before."

"I'm not looking for _proof_ , Bones. It's not that I don't believe you. But there's something...extra...that happens when you fall _in_ love with somebody. It's something that can't be called simple friendship. It's an emotional bond that reaches past that connection you share with the rest of the people you call friends."

"You say 'something' as if that's supposed to tell me exactly what I'm looking for. I don't know what your magical 'something' is." She could feel her level of frustration rising.

"Next to me, who is your closest friend? Angela, right?" He waited for her nod then continued. "This relationship we have, whatever it is we're doing here, could you imagine having that with Angela?"

"That is a poor comparison. Angela is female and I'm not sexually attracted to women. I've determined one of the variables in the equation is sexual attraction. Therefore, there are too many variables to solve for."

He heaved an exasperated sigh, "Pretend, for a moment, you were sexually attracted to Angela."

She pursed her lips as she thought. "Angela and I have a sense of affection and trust for one another. Assuming that we were sexually attracted to each other, and assuming that one of us were pregnant with a child containing both of our DNA, which is scientifically impossible given the current status of genetic engineering," Booth rolled his eyes, "then I conclude that it would be a plausible scenario for Angela and I to raise a child together," she concluded.

"And aside from raising a child?" he asked softly. "The parts of our...friendship...that belong only to us. Could you see duplicating the feelings with Angela?"

"That's unquantifiable data—"

"I'm asking you to reach here, I know that. I want to know if right now I could stand up and Angela could sit down in my place how you'd feel about that." She could hear the seriousness in his voice despite the fact he was practically whispering.

She carefully considered his question. "I'd...miss...you."

"How about if you'd never known me?" he asked with a slight waver in his voice.

"I..." she trailed off because she felt her throat thicken and tears gather in her eyes. "I think I'd miss you anyway."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Every time he was alone over the next couple of days he remembered what it was like to hear her say she'd have missed him even if she never knew him. He knew a statement like that from her was as precious as gold. She might eschew emotions as often as she could, they might frighten her, but despite that, she really was a woman capable of great emotion.

It had been a relatively quiet few days. They didn't have any cases and she was spending a lot of time in her office at the Jeffersonian writing her novel. Since she'd fallen asleep in Limbo the week Cam had outed Brennan's pregnancy, she'd been reluctant to work down there without an intern to keep her on task.

Throughout the week he'd had plenty of time to replay her words, not to mention her soft, emotional tone, in the privacy of his head.

He let himself into their apartment – he was still unused to thinking of it that way even after all the weeks he'd been there – and set about looking for her. She was in her room packing her weekend bag when he found her. He couldn't help but watch her move about the room and he was afforded a long opportunity to watch her as she kept her back to the door while she worked.

She walked differently than she did before she was pregnant. He'd noticed, weeks ago, the slight spread of her hips. She'd always had fantastic hips. He loved the way they flared out from her narrow waist. They'd always been slightly rounded but her pregnancy had made the exceptionally sexy trait even more pronounced. He knew, if he were to mention it, she'd launch into an explanation of female skeletal structure and how certain body types were more anthropologically pleasing because they put males in the right frame of mind for procreation.

Maybe she was right. Maybe her body did speak to him on some long-ingrained and evolutionary level. But no matter what, it was _her_ body that spoke to him. He chuckled silently to himself as he recalled her questioning his response to her pregnant body. Did he have a fetish? Only if attraction to one person in a certain way constituted a fetish.

She bent at the waist to retrieve a pair of socks that had rolled off the bed and he was presented with a perfect view of her ass. He groaned. "Jesus, Bones, you trying to kill me or what?"

She must have been aware he was behind her because she didn't startle at the sound of his voice. Instead she straightened her legs but maintained her bent over position which forced the muscles of her butt and thighs to tighten and further pronounce the curve and slope of her rear. And, if he didn't know better, he'd have thought she _wiggled_ at him for effect. "You'd be of little use to me dead, Booth," she retorted as she stood up the rest of the way and turned to face him.

He couldn't help but grin at her. She was wearing a tank top that pulled tight across her belly and he could see the protrusion quite clearly. "You're gorgeous, you know that?"

She flushed pink. "We're going to have to agree to disagree on that. I maintain I'm getting fat."

He crossed to her in three giant steps. "Fat, Bones?" He reached out and placed a sure hand on her belly. "Not here. Definitely not here where our baby lives. Feel that? It's hard and tight. That's not fat." He skimmed one hand up between her breasts to brush against the sensitive inner swell of her cleavage, "And certainly not here where your body is preparing to nourish our child." His hands ran down along her ribs to her hips which he grasped lightly. "You're not fat here where your...ilia," he paused and waited for her to indicate he'd gotten it right – which she did with a swallow, a slight pant and nod, "have spread to accommodate the birth of our baby." He slid his hands down to rest gently on the outsides of her thighs. "Nope, not fat here either, just as tight and toned as you look." Then, he slid his hands around behind her and grasped the cheeks of her bottom. She whimpered and he groaned. "And you're absolutely not fat here. God, how can any woman's body feel _this_ good?"

"Booth?" she asked shakily.

"Yeah, Bones?" he responded gruffly.

"I would very much like it if you'd kiss me now."

He didn't waste a single moment crashing his lips against hers. She was hot and wet under his mouth and she was kissing him for everything she was worth. He could barely keep up with her – one moment she was stroking the backs of his teeth with her tongue and the next he had to chase it as it darted back into her mouth. She was panting heavily but resisted tearing her mouth away from his to suck in a full, deep breath. Then, before he knew what was happening he was pressed deep into her mattress and she was straddling his hips and hovering above him.

One of his hands snaked its way between the satin skin of her back and the soft cotton of her shirt and the other had dipped below the waist band of her leggings and was palming a smooth, underwear-free ass cheek. She dragged her mouth from his when she finally couldn't deny the urge to breathe any longer and was sucking in one huge lungful of air after another.

"Shit, Bones," he groaned.

She pushed back into the hand that was cupping her behind and he suddenly realized he had his hand on her naked flesh – the sort of naked flesh he needed to not be touching if he was going to maintain his no-sex-before-emotional-commitment policy. He was hard – of course he'd been that way an awful lot since she'd set her sexual sights on him – and was pressing up into the heat that was radiating from between her legs.

She ground herself down into him. "Mmm," she mumbled, "oh...God, yes...Booth...right there."

He couldn't let this continue. She was going to gyrate around on him right there until she came and if the look on her face was anything to go by, it wasn't going to take long. And, if he allowed that, he was no better off than he'd been a couple weeks before when he'd practically fucked her on the couch. And it wasn't doing much for his argument allowing her to seek her relief _on_ his body. Not when what he desperately wanted was her to seek relief _with_ his body. He just wanted it on his terms.

He knew he was being unfair to her. Letting things go as far as he had on the couch sure felt good but it wasn't the right the at the right time. And while he'd never go so far as to say he regretted it he was certainly adamant that sort of thing couldn't keep happening. He was sending her mixed signals and he _did_ feel bad about it. But damn if touching her didn't feel so good it had a tendency to short circuit the path of his better intentions.

Using the considerable strength of his lower body he flipped her over until she was lying beneath him. Her legs fell open to accommodate him and it took the considerable strength of his nature to keep from sinking into the warm and welcoming cradle of her hips – even if he did have the protective barrier of clothing to keep himself mostly honest.

When she arched her neck up to request another kiss, though, he found he couldn't deny her that. He ravaged her mouth with all the desire he had to ravage her body but was careful to keep his arousal to keep from pressing into hers – despite the fact she was wiggling madly in an attempt to make contact. The kissing, though, wasn't helping cool his ardor at all and finally he pulled back from her. "Stop, Babe, we've got to stop."

He cringed. He'd called her 'babe'. Not exactly a great way to get his point across.

Her lips pouted but her eyes smoldered. "No."

"Why don't you complain when I call you 'babe'," he deflected and rolled off of her to lie beside her on the bed. Both their chests were heaving with the effort of breathing.

He turned his head to her and watched as the red-hot flush of arousal gave way to a pinker tint of embarrassment. "I'm not sure why, and I can't explain it, but I like it."

He grinned at her as she rolled over to lie on her side. She discretely pressed her thighs together and his grin widened. He smacked her ass as he sat up. "Finish packing. We're leaving straight from picking Parker up at school."


	19. Week 17, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Do not adjust your screens – you monitor is fine. No, FF hasn't gone wonky again. It's finally here – the second part of Week 17. I've never, ever – in all my time writing – had so much trouble finishing a chapter of a story. But, the good news is, it's here and I'm happy with it. Effusive thanks go to cathmarchr for lending her beta talents (she's responsible for what may be my favorite bit of the whole chapter).
> 
> Thanks to everyone who has commented and messaged me along the way to make sure this story was still in the works. I know I kept promising it was and I'm sure a lot of you lost hope. But the proof, as they say, is in the pudding. So here it goes…

Friday mornings had become somewhat tedious for her. Since she and Booth had been cohabitating – even unofficially – she was much more content to spend the weekends at home in his company. But the Friday morning of her trip to visit her brother and Amy was proving to be not just tedious but annoying.

She'd consent her pregnancy was much more visible than it had been. And she'd even agree that the shirt she'd selected that morning did more to highlight her pregnancy than hide it. What she couldn't figure out was why people she barely knew suddenly felt compelled to lunge in her direction, hands outstretched and aiming for her belly. She'd gracefully side-stepped the usually stoic and older female security guard. She'd shot Mr. Nigel-Murray a contemptuous glance when he'd reached for her stomach. She'd raised an un-amused eyebrow at Dr. Hodgins who'd expressed a desire to 'touch it'.

She'd finally sequestered herself in her office in a last-ditch effort to keep questing hands off her stomach. She imagined other people's desires to feel her stomach would only increase as her pregnancy progressed. And, never having felt the urge to press her hand against a pregnant belly, she could honestly say she didn't understand the compulsion.

When the solitude of her office didn't give her the peace of mind she was looking for, she collected her coat and purse, said her goodbyes to Angela and went to wait on the steps outside the Jeffersonian.

At noon, Booth pulled up in front of the steps where she was sitting but still managing to look agitated.

"What's wrong?" he asked through the rolled down window of his SUV.

"Thank goodness," she breathed uncharacteristically and pushed herself up to her feet. She mentally berated herself for turning Booth into her knight in shining armor but in truth she was so happy to see him she couldn't be _too_ frustrated with herself.

"What?" he questioned again when she was settled in her seat and had her safety belt fastened.

"Let's go. I'm ready to go."

"I can see that," he chuckled. He reached out and ran the backs of his fingers down her arm. "What's going on?"

She sighed dramatically. "Everyone keeps trying to touch _my stomach_."

He laughed. "Okay. So?"

"So?" she huffed with exasperation. "I'm not comfortable with people putting their hands on me."

"They're just excited," he pointed out. "You work with a bunch of people who don't have kids. It's as new to them as it is to you. Besides," he shrugged, "they like you. They want to share this with you."

"I've never been comfortable with touching. If these people like me so much, wouldn't they know me well enough to know that I don't like to be touched?"

"You like to be touched, Bones."

"I do not," she countered petulantly.

He reached over and threaded his fingers through her hair letting his palm cup her cheek. He smirked when she leaned into him a little.

Her eyes caught his and narrowed at the expression on his face. She pulled back. "I suppose you think you've made a point?"

"I'm just saying you like to be touched."

"Do not," she pouted again.

They picked Parker up from school and just before getting on the highway, Booth swung the SUV into the drive thru lane of a McDonalds.

Parker bounced excitedly in the back seat. "Yes!" he pumped his fist in the air. "McDonalds, Dad? This is _awesome_!"

"Don't tell Mom, okay?" Booth grinned at his son in the rearview mirror.

"Why shouldn't he tell Rebecca?" Brennan asked.

"Mom says fast food is way too unhealthy," Parker piped up from the backseat. "So we _never_ get to have it," he sighed.

"It _is_ unhealthy," Brennan pointed out.

"Not you _too_ ," Parker sighed.

"Parker," Booth warned in a gruff tone at his son's whine.

A flood of warmth moved through Brennan at the sound of Booth's voice. It wasn't rational, but an authoritative Booth always made her feel distinctly…feminine. And, since she'd become pregnant, an overly feminine feeling left her feeling aroused. But Booth, while being receptive to her arousal, was doing his best to fight the part of him that wanted to indulge her. Then, of course, Parker was in the back seat.

She shifted uncomfortably and Booth looked over at her with a question in his eyes. "You okay?" he asked her quietly.

She nodded but ran her palms down her thighs. He rolled his eyes. "I'm sorry," she mouthed then whispered, "I can't help it."

He rolled his eyes again as he pulled up to the speaker to give his order. "Deep, cleansing breaths." Then, he rolled his window down.

Fifteen minutes later they were on the interstate all munching happily on hamburgers and French fries.

"I thought you were a vegetarian, Bones," Parker said.

"She was until she got pregnant," Booth said with a chuckle. "You might want to keep an eye on your food, Parks, she's got a way of stealing it when you're not looking."

Parker giggled when Brennan exclaimed, "I do not _steal_ your food." She popped a fry into her mouth then mumbled, "I just take it sometimes."

"If you don't ask before you take it then it's stealing," Parker provided helpfully.

Booth nodded emphatically and pointed at her. "Kid's got a point, Bones."

She threw him a playful smirk and plucked one of the fries out of the cardboard holder closer to him.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Booth watched in amazement as Bones rushed past both her brother and Amy, niceties be damned, and straight to the bathroom, despite the fact she'd had him stop three times on the way down.

"Sorry about that," Booth said as he shook hands with Russ and let Amy pull him into a hug, "it seems like she always has to go these days."

Amy laughed in a way that made him think of his mom, Saturday afternoons and lemonade. "It's only going to get worse."

After all the hellos had been said and the kids had been introduced, Russ and Booth grabbed the duffel bags out of the back of the SUV. "The guestroom's just down this way," Amy said leading them down a hallway. "We've set up a cot for Parker in the game room, I hope that's okay."

"It's fine," Booth assured her. Then he got a good look at the bed. _The_ guestroom. Uh-oh. "You know what I think'll work best? We'll have Bones and Parker sleep here and I'll take the cot."

He caught the light scent of Bones' perfume just moments before she spoke. "I don't think that's going to be very good for your back." He turned to look at her and she had a sly smile on her face. If he didn't know better he'd think she'd planned this. "Obviously, you and Parker will sleep here and _I'll_ sleep on the cot."

He glanced around for little ears then said, "Like hell you will."

Amy looked slightly distressed. "What's wrong?"

From the hallway Russ started to chuckle. "I owe dad ten bucks, that's what's wrong."

Bones smacked her brother on the bicep. "I _told_ you Booth and I aren't sleeping together."

"We have a couch," Amy offered. "One of you is welcome to sleep there." She turned and smacked Russ on his other arm. "Why didn't you _tell_ me," she hissed.

He laughed. "I was sure Tempe was keeping up appearances."

"Okay, how about this, Parker can sleep on the cot, Booth can sleep here and I'll take the couch."

"No, Bones."

"Why not? What's wrong with that solution?"

"You're pregnant. You can't sleep on the couch."

"I sleep on the couch frequently at home," she pointed out.

"To _nap_. Not all night."

She nodded. "That's true." She turned to Amy, "He always wakes me up when I fall asleep on the couch at night. But I'm sure it would be fine."

" _No_."

When she turned back to him there was fire in her eyes. "Booth, I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself. Your back _will not_ tolerate sleeping on either the couch or the cot. It's logical that you take the bed. I can sleep anywhere. So, if you'll allow Parker to sleep with you, I can sleep on the cot which will ensure no one is sleeping in a common area." She sounded deceptively calm. He knew that tone generally meant she was about to unleash on him.

"Fine," he ground out. He wanted to make sure she knew that even though she won he wasn't at all happy about it.

"All right, then."

Later on, while Amy was showing Brennan her gardens and the kids were outside playing in the backyard, Max, Russ and Booth sat around the kitchen table drinking beer.

"Man, I'm sorry," Russ said, "I didn't mean to start anything."

Booth sighed and waved him off. "Don't worry about it. She's not even mad about the room thing. She's mad because I," he pauses to recall the exact words she hissed at him in the bedroom once her family had cleared out, " _attempted to assert my position as alpha-male over a situation completely out of my control_."

Both Russ and Max laughed. "You put up with a lot of shit from my daughter, Booth."

"Yeah, well, what can I say? I love her."

And just as the Brennan men's eyes widened at the admission, two girlish screams tore through the open kitchen window. "Mommy! Mommy, help!"

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Brennan took off after Amy, who had already crossed behind the house at a dead run. She'd never truly experienced the feeling of one's blood running cold until the moment she'd heard the panicked screams from Hailey. Then, once she cleared the corner of the house she stopped in her tracks. Amy was on her knees next to Parker who was laying uncommonly still on the grass beneath a tall oak tree, and Brennan experienced the peculiar feeling of one's heart stopping.

She heard the screen door at the back on the house clatter against the vinyl siding and saw Russ out of the corner of her eye. Then she saw Booth tear forward at a dead run. He collapsed next Amy and it wasn't until she heard his terrified voice that she was able to propel herself forward again. She reached Booth's side just as he was pulling his hand back from his son's head. It came away covered with blood.

A dull roar filled her ears – like the ocean just as a storm moves in. She heard Russ' voice, "Dad, call 911."

"No," Booth interjected as he scooped his boy up off the ground, "I'll take him."

She wanted to tell Booth to stop, that he shouldn't move Parker in the event of a spinal injury, but she couldn't force the words out of her mouth.

"Dad, stay here with the girls," Russ ordered. "Amy and I'll go to the hospital with Booth."

That would be a lot of people in the vehicle – even in one as large as Booth's. She should mention that.

"I can stay behind," Amy said as they all started moving around to the front of the house to load Parker into the SUV. Amy must have looked over at her because suddenly she reached out and grabbed Brennan's forearm. "Temperance?" She couldn't answer Amy. "Never mind. I'm going too."

Russ directed Brennan into the back seat and she found Parker being thrust into her arms, his limp legs draped across her lap and into the empty middle back seat. Amy was next to her, buckling both their seatbelts as Russ slid into the passenger seat and Booth flipped on his siren.

They were flying down the highway before she was even entirely aware they'd left the back yard. She realized then she had to pull herself together. That was not her first brush with catastrophe – she encountered it frequently after natural or political disasters. But those people were anonymous to her – in fact would be anonymous if not _for_ her. But this little boy was _important_ to her. And he was in trouble then. Right that very second. There was no time to assimilate the information. She had to act _immediately_. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, shook her head then tightened her arms around the boy. By the time she exhaled and opened her eyes she felt as if she was back inside her body. She could do this.

She looked down at Parker's slack face. He was breathing; she could feel the rise and fall of his chest beneath her forearm. She reached down and pinched his wrist – hard – and he flinched. Okay. That means it was probably fine to move him. The back of his head was still bleeding significantly, though, as she could feel the blood wetting her shirtsleeve.

She looked up and met Booth's eyes in the rearview mirror. "You with me now, Bones? How's he doing?"

She flushed with embarrassment. He'd noticed she'd completely failed in the face of an emergency. With his _child_. Oh, god. "His breathing is good and he seems to have regular pain responses. He's still unconscious, though."

She looked out the window. Vehicles were giving them a wide berth as they sped back down the interstate highway they'd been on just a couple hours before. Amy reached over and laid a comforting hand on Brennan's where it rested on Parker's chest. "The hospital's only a few more minutes at the rate we're going. It's going to be okay."

Just a minute later, Russ pointed out an exit and Booth zoomed down it. Within three more minutes they were idling in front of emergency room doors. Russ lifted Parker out of her arms and she clambered out of the SUV after him. Booth turned to her, "Bones, park the car. I'm going inside with him."

"Yes," she nodded and climbed into the driver's seat. She flipped the switch for the emergency lights and siren and felt some of the tension drain out of her when they were silenced. She hadn't realized the siren had set her so much on edge. She pulled around a circular drive and into a parking garage. It took her three tries to get the big SUV reasonably straight in one of the narrow spaces. She looked around her for her purse before realizing she hadn't had time to grab it.

As she reached over to hit the power lock button she caught a glimpse of Parker's blood where it had soaked her blouse and her stomach turned. What the hell was the matter with her? She didn't have _time_ for that sort of reaction. She pressed the lock button and slammed the door behind her. Just as she rushed through the sliding doors she saw Booth disappear through the swing doors that separated the waiting room from the triage area.

"Tempe," Russ called out to her quietly, "over here."

She took the empty seat next to Amy and took a shuddery breath. "Have they said anything yet?"

Amy shook her head. "No. But then again they _just_ went back. I know Booth was able to get Rebecca on the phone."

"Rebecca?"

Amy shrugged, "The nurse asked for some information Booth didn't have."

Brennan nodded, "Of course." She looked down at her hands and was surprised to see them shaking. "What happened?"

"They were climbing the tree in the backyard and Parker fell. Hailey said he hit his head on a branch on the way down." Amy reached over and clasped one of Brennan's trembling hands between her own. "I'm sure he'll be fine. Kids are very resilient."

Brennan nodded again and turned her attention towards the doors she'd seen Booth and Parker disappear through. With each passing minute she felt her trembling increase and within a half hour she found herself unable to take deep breaths. "I can't stand this. I've got to see them."

When she moved to stand Amy tugged her back down. "Temperance, you can't. It's immediate family only in these situations. Unless Booth comes out to get you they're not going to let you in."

Russ nodded gravely. "It's frustrating, I know. It's one of the reasons Amy and I started talking about getting married. With Hailey in and out of the hospital I couldn't take not being allowed in."

"What if he's not okay?" She leaned back in her chair. "This is so stressful. I'm not sure I can take this."

"This is part of being a parent," Amy said in as soothing a voice as Brennan had ever heard. "We spend all our time worrying and sometimes we spend our time in hospitals hoping for the best. But kids really are a lot stronger than we give them credit for. He'll be fine and you will be too. You'll be fine because that's what you have to do."

"How can you be sure?"

"I'm a mom," she said gravely but shrugged casually, "it's what I do. It's what you do too, now. _That's_ how I know."

She was still struggling to take a deep breath and she realized she was beginning to hyperventilate. She couldn't stop it, however. When she looked back over at the swinging doors to triage she found her vision was blurry. And when she leaned forward she felt her head begin to spin.

"I'm dizzy," she said breathlessly. Then a sudden wave of nausea washed over her. "Oh, and I think I'm going to be sick."

"Russ," Amy whispered though Brennan could still hear her, "go get a nurse. Now." She leaned back toward Brennan. "Temperance? I need you to close your eyes and take a deep breath. Can you do that?"

Brennan shook her head, "I can't seem to breathe normally. Please, I need a restroom."

"Lean forward and put your head between your knees."

Brennan had to scoot forward in her chair to spread her legs to accommodate her bulging belly but she was able to put her forehead to her knees. Ten minutes later a nurse appeared with a blood pressure cuff in her hand but Brennan's symptoms hadn't abated.

"Ma'am? Can you sit back please?"

Brennan looked up to see the young woman kneeling in front of her and shook her head. "I think I'm going to be sick if I move."

The young nurse leaned over and grabbed a metal waste paper basket from the end of the row of chairs. "Just in case," she smiled. "But I do need you to sit back so I can take your blood pressure."

She sat up slowly willing her stomach not to rebel. The nurse slipped the blood pressure cuff up her right arm, the one not covered in Parker's blood, and tightened it down. "How far along are you?"

"What?"

"Your pregnancy," she nodded down at Brennan's belly as she slipped the stethoscope buds into her ears. "How far along are you?"

"Oh. Seventeen weeks."

The nurse nodded and began to pump up the cuff. After a few moments she sat back on her heels. "Miss…?" she trailed off.

"Brennan. Dr. Brennan."

"Dr. Brennan, your blood pressure is one hundred ninety over one hundred and six. You're going to need to try to calm down or I'm going to have to put you in a bed. We'll take your pressure again in ten minutes. I understand you're under a great deal of stress right now, but a pressure that high isn't good for you _or_ the baby."

Brennan nodded dumbly just as she saw Booth reappear through the swinging doors.

"Bones? What's going on?" He stalked across the waiting room to where she was sitting with Russ and Amy.

"How's Parker?"

"He's going to be fine. What's the matter? Are you okay?"

"Did he break anything?"

"No, just needed some stitches. He's come around and everything. He's going to have a hell of a headache for a couple days but he'll be fine after that. Now what the hell's going on?"

"Her blood pressure's too high," Russ piped up.

She shot her brother a look. "I'll be fine. It's just stress."

"Dr. Brennan," the nurse interjected, "You need to remain calm so your blood pressure will lower. I'm going to retake it in ten minutes."

"Is the baby okay?" Booth asked in that quiet voice he used in the interrogation room which never left any doubt about who was in charge.

"There's no reason to believe the baby's in distress right now," the nurse said while pressing the stethoscope to Brennan's belly. "The heartbeat is strong and regular." She addressed Brennan, "But if your blood pressure doesn't come down on the next check, we'll want to put you on a fetal monitor just to be sure."

"Bones," Booth's voice dropped even lower and softer. She cringed.

"I'm trying to calm down," she said. "But I still feel like I'm going to be sick."

"Shouldn't you take her back for a better look," Booth turned on the nurse. "How can you be sure the baby's okay?"

"Booth," Brennan admonished him, "I'm sure the nurse is competent."

"Look, I just had a scare with one of my kids. Forgive me if I'm a little on edge about the other one."

"I'd be happy to take her back and put her on the monitor now, sir, but there's really no need. As long as her pressure drops at the next reading and the baby's heart rate continues to sound strong and steady, there's no reason to worry. This is likely a reaction to the stress and not something more serious."

Brennan looked up to meet Booth's eyes only to find them desperate. "I want her checked out completely."

"Booth," Brennan tried again, but the fire she saw only a moment before had turned into fear and she sighed. "Okay." She looked back to the nurse. "Perhaps we should take a closer look at the baby, just to be sure."

The nurse smiled warmly after looking at Booth. "All right. Come along with me, Dr. Brennan and we'll check everything out."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Booth always found great pleasure in being behind the wheel of his SUV but none more so than day he was able to take both his son and Bones home from the hospital knowing everyone was going to be okay. The fetal heart monitor that had been strapped to Bones' belly never wavered from its quick, confident pulsing. Amy had sat with her and told amusing anecdotes from her pregnancies to distract Brennan from the stress. By the time Amy finished describing her experience vomiting against a parking meter unfortunately located in front of a dive bar, Brennan's blood pressure was back to a textbook one hundred ten over seventy-four.

In the back seat of the SUV, Parker was sandwiched between Bones and Amy and was talking with nearly as much animation as he usually did.

"How come my head didn't break when I fell out of the tree, Bones? I fell off the monkey bars two years ago and that was almost as far as I fell today and then I broke my arm."

Her answer was uncharacteristically simple. "The skull is quite strong," she said as she ran her fingers through the hair on the uninjured side of his head.

"I'm sorry I bled on your shirt, Bones."

Booth watched in the rearview mirror as she looked down at her arm. "It's okay, Parker." She leaned over then and pressed a quick but fierce kiss to his son's temple. "Just please don't ever do it again."

Booth expected Parker to shy away from her affection but he watched as his son seemed to settle into her side. "I'll try not to."

Booth wasn't sure how his son was intuitive enough to know Bones wasn't talking about the blood nearly as much as she was talking about Parker seriously injuring himself… but the kid knew.

"And I'm glad you and the baby are okay."

"Thank you. So am I."

"Were you really so worried about me it made you sick?"

"Yes, I was."

"You shouldn't do that while you're pregnant. Dad might have a heart attack or something."

Booth looked back up into the rearview mirror to see his son and Bones grinning at each other.

"You're right. I'm sorry," she said.

"It's okay," Parker chirped. "Just please don't ever do it again."

Later that night, after the kids were parked in front of one animated movie or another, Booth went to sit out on the front porch in the hanging swing. The night was just slightly on the cool side and he stole one deep lungful of country air after another until he could feel languor course through his body. Down the long dirt drive and across the county road was a large empty field that had been recently planted. He lost himself in the wave-like planting trenches and was surprised when the swing rocked back.

Brennan pressed a glass of scotch into his hand and leaned back. "You look exhausted," she commented. "Dad's offered to get up for Parker's checks tonight so you can get some sleep. He's going to have to be awakened every couple of hours just to be sure he's not concussed."

Booth nodded and took a sip of his scotch. "That'd be great. I am tired." He reached over and put a heavy hand on her thigh. "How are _you_ doing?"

"I feel fine now." She leaned over into his shoulder. "I'm sorry for my behavior today. I'm usually excellent in emergent situations. But I had some strange physiological reactions to discovering Parker had been injured."

He squeezed her thigh. "I did too. It's okay."

She shook her head emphatically. "It's not. What if I'd been his primary caretaker when it happened? What if his injuries had been more serious?" Emotion thickened her voice. "What if one day it's the baby and what happened to me today happens again? Booth, I'm afraid…"

When she didn't continue he turned to look down at her face where it pressed against his shoulder. "What are you afraid of?"

"I'm afraid I'm not going to make a very reliable parent."

"Oh, Bones," he leaned over and put his glass on the floor of the porch then pulled her into his arms. "You're going to be a fantastic mother. What happened today was an anomaly. You know how many times I've seen you keep your cool in the face of an emergency?"

She shook her head. "No. How many?"

He chuckled. "I'm not sure _exactly_ how many, it's not like I've been keeping count just in case we had this conversation one day. But I know it's been a lot. I know there's no one else I trust the way I trust you. I trust you with my kids," he gestured behind him into the house, "that one in there that's going to be just fine and this one," he covered her belly with his other hand, "that you're already taking such fantastic care of." He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "What happened today isn't the sort of thing that normally happens to you and I don't think you need to worry about it becoming a reoccurring thing."

They sat quietly for a few minutes. "Dad thinks Parker should sleep on the couch so he can wake him up regularly."

Booth grunted in acquiescence as she untangled herself from his embrace, stood, and pulled him up off the swing. "Come on, it's time you went to bed."

He let her lead him into the house and down the hall to the guest bedroom. He let her stand there while he stripped off his t-shirt and jeans. He let her smooth the blankets up over his chest and press a kiss to his forehead. He let her fingers link through his and he let her sit on the edge of the bed. But just until he fell asleep, he justified, as his eyes slipped closed.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

On the way back to DC Sunday afternoon, Brennan turned to Parker in the backseat. "Did you enjoy yourself?"

"It was really fun. Did you know Max let me and Hailey make baking soda volcanoes?"

She nodded, "Yes, I did."

"And Russ said dad and I could come back and go fishing again whenever we wanted. How cool is it that they have a pond in their back yard?"

"Pretty cool, Parks," Booth interjected.

"And you know Hailey and I had to keep letting Emma win Hungry, Hungry Hippos because she'd cry if we didn't."

"It was nice of you to let her win," Booth said just as she was ready to tell Parker letting children win at games was more apt to promote bad sportsmanship than anything else. She figured Booth likely had the more appropriate reaction to Parker's news, though.

"Do you think mom'll let me go again? She was pretty upset I fell out of that tree."

"I talked to your mom, she's okay now. She was just worried about you."

Parker shrugged. "I don't know, dad, she sounded pretty upset." He pulled open the Tupperware container of cookies Amy had sent along for the ride. "I really want to be able to go back."

"Did you really have that much fun?" Brennan asked.

"Sure! And Max says next time he'll show me how to make fake snot."

Brennan wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Why would you want to make fake snot?"

Parker rolled his eyes at her good-naturedly. "Because, Bones, it's cool!"

Parker chattered on for twenty minutes then abruptly the conversation stopped. Brennan looked back over her shoulder to find him sound asleep with his head resting against the window. "Well," she said to Booth, "I guess he had a good time."

Booth nodded, "He did. Doesn't seem too worse for the wear either."

"No." She fiddled with the air vents. "Do you really think Rebecca would let him go again?"

"Sure. Why not? Kids get hurt, Bones, it's part of the deal," he said casually, but he did reach over and thread their fingers together.

They left Parker off at a relieved Rebecca's house – though she did assure Brennan she wasn't angry in the slightest. And by the time they walked through their apartment door Brennan was exhausted.

"I know it's only six, but I think I'm going to go to bed." She stretched tiredly and felt a twinge in her back. She reached around to press on it but Booth beat her to it.

"I knew you shouldn't have slept on that cot."

"It was the only solution that made sense," she pointed out. A low moan escaped her lips from the pleasure of the pressure of his fingertips pressing along her spine.

"It makes sense _your_ back should be the one that's hurting?"

"I believe it was the long car trip that caused my back to hurt, not the cot."

"You should take a hot bath, soothe your muscles."

"Could you just rub for another minute or two? I'd really just prefer to go to bed."

"Come on," he rumbled lowly into her ear, "I could draw you a nice hot bath, make you a cup of that herbal tea you like so much. I'll even put your nightgown in the dryer so it's nice and warm when you put it on."

"That does sound nice," she relented with a nod.

He walked her toward her bedroom and sat her down on the edge of the bed to wait for her bath to run. She heard him turn on the taps then he disappeared from the room. She heard the microwave buttons beeping in the kitchen then a couple minutes later he returned with a tea cup in hand. He carried it into the bathroom for her and then, a couple minutes later he called out to her. "Everything's ready – just waiting on you."

She wandered into the bathroom, already unbuttoning her blouse. She watched his eyes fall to her exposed bra and then fought a smirk as he struggled to pull his eyes back up to her face. "You're really too good to me, you know?"

"And you're evil."

"I know," she says as she dropped her blouse behind her, "but I'm starting to think you like it."

She chuckled as he backed out of the room. Just before he pushed the door closed he popped his head back into the room, "Baby, I'm a glutton for punishment." With a wink he shut the door.


	20. Week 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: No, you aren't imagining things. This really is another chapter of Forty Weeks. This installment was brought to you by Tracgyrl. Without her thoughts on how to get me rolling on this again we'd all likely still be waiting for another chapter. But she did get me rolling again so here we are.
> 
> This chapter was beta'd by the always lovely and incredibly meticulous cathmarchr. She catches the things that escape me and lends myriad wonderful lines to the creative process. Some of those lines I steal outright and other I let take me on a whole new journey.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who still cares about this story enough to email me regularly checking in on when another chapter might be coming. Without reviewers I'd still write but I probably wouldn't enjoy it nearly as much.
> 
> I know none of you are here for the author's note – especially after all this time. So, without any further delay, I present Week 18.

" _Oh, my aching back!"_

She'd been having spasms in her lower back all day – little twinges of pain that sparked like a lighter but then glowed hot like the end of a cigarette. How could it be that something that weighed less than half a pound could be causing her pain?

The previous night Booth had rubbed the small of her back while she perched on the edge of the sofa, and as she walked through her apartment door she was already considering how she could get him to do that for her again.

She was pulled up abruptly by the sight of a garment bag slung over the back of her couch and a duffle sitting haphazardly in the middle of the floor.

"Booth?" she called out as she dropped her keys into the basket by the door.

He stepped out into the hall from his bedroom, "Good. You're home."

"I am. But it looks like you're not going to be for much longer."

He shook his head from a distance then joined her in the foyer. "I've got casework in Idaho."

She shook her head. "We don't have a case right now."

"Remember the case I've been working with Krantz?" He paused until she nodded. He shrugged. "He needs my help."

" _Your_ help? Again? Doesn't he have a partner?"

He shook his head and she had the sudden feeling they'd turned into bobble head dolls.

"So now _you_ have to go to Idaho. Over something his snitch _here_ brought up?"

"I can't really talk about it."

"Why not?"

"Because it's Krantz's case."

"So? Since when do you deal in top-secret FBI business?"

"You know, you're starting to sound a little pissy." He took a deep breath. "I can't talk about it because it's a cover operation."

"I'm your _partner._ " She damned the hormones that put that detestable whine in her voice.

He must have seen the tears well in her eyes because he took another step toward her, wrapped his arms around her stiff shoulders and spoke softly. "Oh, baby. Yeah. You are my partner. But it's not my partner who's upset right now, is it?"

She stepped back from his embrace and wiped a stubborn thumb under her eyes. "I'm not sure what you mean by that." She also wasn't sure exactly when, how or why he'd taken to peppering his conversation with the occasional 'baby'.

With great patience as if he were talking to a child he said, "My _partner_ , Dr. Brennan, isn't upset that I'm leaving. It's work. She understands that." He reached out and traced a light path down her cheekbone. "My… _partner_ ," he gave the word a soft affectation, "is upset. Because she's pregnant and uncomfortable and emotional and she just wants me to be here."

"I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself, Booth." But even to her ears her voice didn't sound very convincing.

"I know you are. But I like being here to take care of you. And you like me being here."

"That's very ego-centric."

"It's not ego-centric when it's true, Bones. There's nothing wrong with wanting to be with each other. It's not a sign of weakness, you know."

She wished she had a retort for that but found she didn't. She felt deflated. All the emotions she'd experienced since she'd first seen his packed bags in the living room left her in a rush. She sat heavily on the sofa. "Well, it's not as if there's not plenty to keep me busy for a while. How long will you be gone?"

He sat down next to her with a look in his eyes that said his answer wasn't going to please her. "We're not sure. It could be several weeks. Maybe a month." She opened her mouth to protest but he cut her off. "I talked to Cullen about it, though, and he agreed – barring unforeseen complications – not more than a week without at least getting to come home and put my own eyes on you."

She sighed. "How is _that_ going to work? Undercover doesn't mean you get to go home and check on your pregnant wi—" Abruptly, she stopped talking. She'd nearly said _wife_. Why had she nearly said wife? She'd never even _thought_ wife outside their easy reminders that she was neither his wife nor his girlfriend.

His eyes were wide and round. He'd heard her. He knew exactly what she'd been about to say. "You're right," he said quietly, "undercover means I don't get to come home and check on my pregnant wife. I guess, then, it's a good thing I don't _have_ a pregnant wife."

She wasn't sure what that answer was supposed to mean. Had she opened a wound by pointing out they weren't married or was he speaking quietly in an attempt to not spook her anymore than she'd clearly already spooked herself? "Booth," she started but found she didn't know how to finish.

He shook his head, "It's okay, don't worry about it. I understand what you were trying to say."

His hands were tightly clenched on his thighs. She reached over and covered one large fist with her hand. "It's _not_ okay, Booth. I'm not sure why I nearly said that."

His hand relaxed beneath hers and he closed his fingers around hers. "I happen to think that slip was significant, but I'm not going to push you into thinking the same thing. Maybe it's good that I'm going to Idaho. You can process this on your own."

She wiggled her fingers in his grasp until their fingers threaded together. "I'm not sure I _want_ to process this on my own."

"Meaning you're not sure you want to process this at all?" He sounded resigned.

"No. I mean, I think this is something we ought to be dealing with together, don't you?"

"What are you trying to tell me?"

She hesitated. She needed to be sure. The moment had been eighteen weeks in the making. It'd been five _years_ in the making, if she was going to be completely honest. "I think it's time to admit that we're… _significant_ to one another."

He groaned, "Bones. I could kiss you or strangle you. I'm going either way on that right now."

"Well, personally I'm voting for kissing. Why would you want to strangle me? Are you not happy? Do you not feel the same way anymore?"

"Of course I'm happy. I'm thrilled. But leave it to you to tell me something like that just moments before I have to leave to get on an airplane."

"Tonight? You're leaving _tonight?_ "

"Yeah. In about half and hour if I'm going to make the plane." He squeezed her hand. "What brought this on?"

She fiddled with the smooth edges of his fingernails. "At the hospital…with Parker... Russ said something to me about situations like that being the reason he and Amy started talking about getting married."

"You trying to tell me you want to get married?" His right eyebrow shot upward and she could tell he was teasing her.

"I'm trying to tell you why I think it's time we were in a relationship."

"I still maintain we've _been_ in a relationship for at least a few months now."

"Semantics aside, Booth, I'm trying to say something important here!" Frustration crept into her voice. "I'm trying to say something important in the few minutes we have and you're being glib."

He looked appropriately chagrined and shrugged sheepishly. "You're right. I'm sorry. But I'm happy. Go ahead."

"It's just… you're really important to me. And the fact that I'd much prefer you were around, even when you're annoying me, says something substantial to me. I no longer have the need for space or the desire to be alone and I've been cultivating that aspect of my personality for nearly twenty years, Booth."

"Fifteen."

"I'm sorry?"

"You 'cultivated' that aspect of your personality for nearly fifteen years. Then we met."

She felt like he was making an important point. "And from that moment I was changed."

"I don't know. But I sort of feel like you were. Don't you?"

She unlaced their fingers and rested her hand against the slick material of his slacks where they molded to his thigh. "Yes," she admits, "I feel like I started changing even then."

"And now you're ready to say that it's you and me. Together. Not just you and me headed in the same general direction."

"Yes," she nodded.

"You and me making decisions together? Decisions that'll affect the rest of our days?"

"Yes," she nodded again and felt the edges of her mouth tug up just a bit.

"Decisions like where we'll live and where we'll spend holidays and when this goes from us being 'significant' to one another to us being _everything_ to one another."

She couldn't help but mess with him just a little. "Everything, Booth? I love you, but that doesn't mean you're _everything_ to me. We're about to have a child together, after all. I'm fairly certain that child will be especially meaningful to me."

His mouth had been open, ready to retort before she'd even gotten her first word out but when she was done his jaw hung slack and he wore a dumfounded look. "What did you just say?"

"That we're going to have a baby together." She smirked at him.

"Before that."

"That you're not everything to me?" she said sweetly.

"Before that," he growled as he grasped her upper arms tightly.

"That I love you?" she repeated quietly.

His lips crashed into hers as he gave her a bruising kiss. "I hate you, you know that?" he asked her – but his words were a jumbled mess.

She grinned against his mouth. "I think not." She trailed a hand down his chest and used the back of her fingers to trace the lines of his abdominal muscles. They twitched beneath her fingers. Heat spread through her like wild fire. She was astonished by the way she reacted to him so strongly. Every time – like it was the first time. Somehow he always managed to make her feel like she was both an expert and a novice. It was thrilling.

She pressed him into a deep kiss again. She was desperate to feel his tongue slide against hers. He had a way of flicking the end of tongue against hers that made her think of having his tongue in places she'd much rather be undressed for.

Her fingers migrated to the buttons of his shirt. She'd managed to work a button half open when he groaned so savagely she was sure she felt her teeth rattle. "I have to leave in," he drew back from where he'd been speaking right against her lips and glanced at the wall clock, "twenty four and a half minutes and you drop a bombshell on me like that?"

"It's not like I've never told you I loved you before."

"Yeah," he said quietly, "but that was different."

"Why?"

"Well, then you were trying to make a point to get your way about sex. You loved me, we're friends, yeah, I get that. But this time it's different. _This_ is the emotion I've been talking about all along."

"Oh, so you mean we can have sex now?" she asked coyly.

He growled and kissed her hotly again. "No. Not now. Because I have to get on a fucking plane and our first time together isn't going to be some quick thing you're not going remember tomorrow."

"I guess my timing is pretty bad, huh?" She couldn't help but grin at him.

"You know," he said, pretending to consider it, "there's really never a bad time to tell me you love me."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

He called her that night around twelve thirty once he'd finally checked into the hotel and slid between woody sheets. He sounded travel weary and she felt bad for insisting he call.

"How are _you_?" he asked after he answered the requisite 'how was the flight', 'how was the room', 'did you eat dinner' set of questions.

"Fine. I'm fine."

"You don't sound fine. Is it your back?"

"Nothing I can't handle."

"I know that. But I wish I was there. I'd rub it for you."

"I know. And thank you." She shifted in her bed trying to find a more comfortable position. "Your meeting went well?"

He sighed. "Yeah. We're still hoping for in and out."

"But you said three weeks or more."

"Most likely will be. But hope springs eternal, right?"

"I think you should take your time and be careful."

"That glad to be rid of me, Bones?"

"Of course not," she said and was surprised to find a knot in her throat as tears gathered in her eyes. She sucked in a deep breath.

"Are you _crying_?"

"What?" she asked swiping at her eyes. "No. Don't be silly."

His voice took on a teasing edge. "You _miss_ me." He chuckled. "I've been gone for six hours."

"I'll admit I've gotten used to having you around," she said noncommittally.

"I love you too, you know. It occurs to me I didn't tell you that this evening when you were going on and on about being ready to be in a relationship."

"I wasn't going on and on," she huffed.

"You were totally going on and on."

"And on that note, goodnight, Booth."

"Good night, baby." He paused for a long moment. "I love you."

She hesitated. She was wholly unfamiliar with the experience of that moment where one told you they loved you and you were expected to say it back. She'd witnessed the phenomenon on countless occasions and never before understood why one would feel compelled to answer that way with no real provocation aside from the fact it just seemed like the thing to do. But as his words tumbled around inside her head she suddenly understood the compulsion. She loved him and it was important he understood that. And in that case telling was nearly as good as showing. Not to mention, it seemed like Booth would be the kind of man who would abide by such a social construct.

"I love you, too," she finally returned.

He exhaled and she imagined it was in relief. "Good night."

"Good night, Booth. I'll talk to you soon."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Thursday evening, Angela was hovering around her desk while she was trying to write – her editor was demanding chapter revisions and she'd been a little too distracted to follow through. "Come on, Brennan, it'll be like girl's night out."

"Without the alcohol."

"Or trying to pick up cute boys."

"I don't think I'd have much luck in any case," she said as she traced the contours of her belly with a flattened palm.

"Are you kidding me? You're gorgeous."

"I'm pregnant."

Angela shrugged, "Some guys go for that."

She couldn't help her wistful smile. "Yes. Some do."

"Some like say, oh, a handsome G-man who happens to live in your apartment?"

She was suddenly very aware she hadn't shared the developments of her relationship with Booth with her best friend. She pushed away from her computer. "You know what? I think a girl's night out sounds like a great idea."

"Fantastic!"

She'd planned to wait until they arrived at the restaurant to fill Angela in. However, they'd only been in the car for a few minutes when she had an undeniable urge to blurt out her news. She began fidgeting in an attempt to hold out just a little longer.

Angela shot her a glance from the driver's seat. "What the matter?"

"Hmm?"

Angela slowed to a stop at a traffic light and raised an eyebrow. "Why are you all jittery?"

"I'm not jittery."

"Yeah, sweetie, you are."

She hesitated. She had news Angela had been waiting for in a way that made Brennan look apathetic about the situation. She didn't want to short her friend the big moment. But she couldn't wait anymore. "Tuesday, before Booth left?"

Angela nodded then glanced back toward the road as she accelerated.

"We decided, I mean…I told him…"

Angela nodded encouragingly, "ou told him what?" When Brennan didn't answer immediately, Angela started guessing. "…That it was all a big joke – that you aren't pregnant at all? That the baby isn't his? That secretly you've been dying to get married and film your own version of 19 Kids and Counting?"

"I don't know what that is, but it sounds excruciating. Though, the answer might be closer to that than you might imagine."

Angela gasped and exclaimed, "You're having twins?"

Brennan couldn't help but laugh. "Twins? No. But Booth and I have decided to enter into a relationship."

Angela squealed with such delight Brennan feared for the state of not only her own hearing but that of her baby, as well. "No way. Really? Don't tease me about this, Bren. Really. I'm not joking."

"I'm not teasing, I promise." She studied the fabric of her skirt where it was stretched taught across her thighs. "It took me a while but I realized I've come to love him in a way I can't to apply to other people. I think I have for some time."

"Oh, honey. That's great. How did it happen?"

She blushed a little at the recollection. "Well, I called myself his wife in conversation."

Angela zipped into a parallel parking spot, threw the car out of gear and spun in her seat towards Brennan. Her expression was incredulous. "You did what?"

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

By the time the phone rang Friday night she was ready to admit his absence was doing some seriously bad things to her attitude. Her back was killing her, she'd improperly prepared a pot roast he'd guaranteed her would be fool-proof, her favorite shirt no longer fit her, and standing for eight hours in Limbo was no longer an option if her swollen ankles were anything to judge by.

"I wish there was something I could do for you," he said sympathetically after she'd reported her long list of woes. "If it makes you feel any better it looks like I'll be home on Wednesday."

"Wednesday is more than a week," she said waspishly. "And besides that's five days from now."

"You know," he said in an even voice that suggested her biting tongue wasn't going to provoke him, "a nice, hot bath would do wonders for your back _and_ your ankles. And just because the pot roast didn't turn out doesn't mean you can't still have your beef fix. The Thai place owes us a free meal and delivery anyway from that order they messed up last week. You could take advantage of that."

"You know how I feel about you being reasonable when I feel like this."

"I know," he chuckled. "My Mr. Fix-It routine pisses you off."

"It does."

"Well, babe, I don't know what to tell you. You're in a shitty mood. I wish I was there but I can't be. We can both be upset about it, but I don't think that's going to get us anywhere."

She sighed. He was right. She _knew_ he was right. That did not, however, make her feel any better. She ached, she was hungry and her shirt mocked her from its place at the foot of her bed – she'd snatched it off earlier that morning in disgust and flung it away from herself.

"Tell me something about your day," she diverted.

"There's not much I can tell you," he said in a way she could very nearly _see_ him shrug. "We're moving along about like we expected. We're safe. We've just got to hang tight and keep our heads down until we make a little more progress."

She decided she might as well take his advice and have that hot bath. Food could wait until later – the pain needed to stop first. She opened the hot tap wide on her bathtub and within minutes the room was full of steam. "Tell me something that will make me feel better," she requested petulantly as she sat on the edge of the tub.

"Why Dr. Brennan, how completely irrational of you. Don't you know I don't have the power to make you feel better or, for that matter, worse?"

"Well," she retorted with much less venom than she'd felt all night, "your tone suggests you're mocking me. I don't like to be mocked." But she found herself smiling – both over his foppish tone and flippancy. "And you're wrong, Booth, I _do_ feel better."

"Ah, baby," he said on a long sigh and she could picture him stretching long in his hotel bed – hands reached high above him and toes pointed for maximum span, "I'm glad."

"You know," she said as she tested the water and found it a touch to hot, "I find you to be quite funny."

He barked out a laugh. "Okay. That's not where I thought you were going with that."

"Don't you want me to think you're funny?"

"Well, sure, Bones. I guess that's good. But I sort of thought you were getting ready to profess your undying love again."

She just _knew_ he was grinning in that infuriating way he had. "I'm fairly certain I've not professed my undying love for you once. How would I be able to do so again?"

"Oh, you love," he said cockily.

"That's not the question," she replied. "Of course I do."

He gasped as if he was still unused to hear it. And, she supposed, he was. She'd been so guarded with her feelings for so long it was likely going to take him a while to get used to her flinging around words like 'love' an unconscious regularity. "And that love isn't undying?"

"I don't know. Ask me in twenty years or so."

"How about fifty?"

"Thirty-five," she countered.

"Deal."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Sunday when he called she was in a better mood. It didn't last long when he opened the conversation with, "I've got bad news."

"If your bad news has something to do with you _not_ coming home on Wednesday, I'm reserving the right to have a hit put out on Deputy Director Cullen."

"Nice use of an idiom there, Bones. But get out your rolodex, you're going to need a hit man."

She groaned. "Seriously?"

"It's looking like Thursday now. We got a meet, which is great. But it's Thursday so we won't be able to catch a flight out until that evening."

"You're not joking, are you?"

"'Fraid not. I really am sorry, Bones. I want to be home just as badly as you want me home, I promise."

"You have absolutely no way of quantifying the data to support your hypothesis," she said sullenly. "But," she conceded, "I imagine you're probably right."

"Look at it this way. You can spend a whole week with your old bones and no interruptions from me."

"I _like_ your interruptions," she wheedled.

"You know, I always had a sneaking suspicion you weren't nearly as put out by new cases as you pretended to be."

"I do enjoy the work we do together, surely you know that."

"Well, of course you do. I'm a fun guy."

"Impossible," she couldn't resist the urge to tease him; "Fungi are an entirely different Taxonomic Kingdom."

"Woo," he whooped, "ladies and gentlemen, she's on _fire_ today!"

"Thursday, for certain?" she asked him quietly in the wake of his laughter.

"Yeah, babe, Thursday for certain."

"It seems as if you've swapped one nickname for another," she wondered idly.

"Geez, Bones, you're gonna give me whiplash if you keep changing subjects so fast." He paused. "What do you mean?"

"You used to call me 'Bones' nearly exclusively. Now, it seems you're in the habit of calling me 'babe'."

"I still call you 'Bones'."

"You do," she conceded.

"I also call you 'baby'." He paused again and she began to think he was doing it for dramatic effect. "If I recall, you _like_ it."

"If _I_ recall, I told you I liked 'babe'."

"Okay?" he led.

"But 'baby' is growing on me, too. I'm uncertain why."

"They are called terms of endearment for a reason, you know. Think about it. I don't call anyone else babe or baby, do I?"

"Of course not."

"That's because those terms are reserved for you. _You're_ special to me."

"By that logic, nicknames could be a term of endearment."

"Some are."

"Like 'shrimp'?"

"Where'd you hear that?" he demanded, though not unkindly.

"Your grandfather called today. It seems your cell phone was going repeatedly to voicemail. I found it strange he calls you 'shrimp'. There's nothing remotely shrimp-like about you."

"Well," he chuckled, "I was a kid once, you know."

"And you were shrimp-like then?" She couldn't quite grasp the reference.

"I was short, Bones. Scrawny. A shrimp. Get it?"

"Well, technically speaking, as shrimp are measured in length for scientific purposes and weight for culinary purposes, there's not much basis for comparison in height or brawn."

"Okay, Bones, fine. I was short in length."

She gulped audibly. She was fairly certain he didn't mean that as a double entendre, but she'd certainly heard it as one. And she was fairly certain he didn't bear any resemblance to a shrimp in the length department. "I find that incredibly hard to believe," she said wryly.

He paused and then groaned. "Really? You're bringing _that_ right _now_?"

"Actually, _you_ brought it up."

"You're going to bring it up if you aren't careful," he said playfully.

"I think this conversation is devolving."

"We could always, _you know_ , over the phone."

She flushed at the thought but chuckled. "Wouldn't you rather, _you know_ , in person?"

"Hell yes, I would. But there's not going to be any _in person_ until Thursday."

"It'll be our first time together."

"It will," he answered huskily.

"Is there anything I should know? Anything…special…you'd like me to do? Or have?"

"I guarantee unadulterated you is going to be more than enough."

"Even though this is a completely erroneous statement, I feel compelled to tell you I can't wait until you get home."

"I can't wait to _be_ home."

"You'll call again?"

"As soon as I can."

"You'll be careful?"

"Of course."

She sighed. "I really do love you."

He made a contented noise in the back of his throat. "You're never going to be able to tell me that too many times."

She shucked her clothing off and slid down into her steaming bath. "You think I'm ever going to be able to tell you _enough_?"

"Maybe in fifty years," he said with what she could tell was a grin.

She smirked at his attempt to renegotiate. "How about twenty?"

"How about thirty-five, Bones?" He didn't sound too upset about coming back to her original offer.

"Deal."


	21. Week 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Um, yeah. So, this happened.

" _Those first tiny kicks can be felt in many different ways – anywhere."_

She missed him. The entire apartment was different when he was away. After nearly a week of his absence, she'd had enough.

Tuesday morning when she awoke, she defiantly made a pot of coffee she had no intention of drinking, turned on the overhead light and two lamps in his bedroom and rummaged around in the drawers of his bathroom until she found his cologne. It wasn't the one he normally wore – of course it wasn't. He had his usual cologne in his dopp kit. The cologne she found, however, was familiar enough to do the trick. She sprinkled some on the hand towel on the counter until she was satisfied with the scent of the room.

Once things in the apartment seemed a little more familiar, she could feel the knot between her shoulders begin to relax. Thursday, she kept reminding herself. He'd be home on Thursday.

Halfway through her morning she huffed a frustrated sigh and sank into her desk chair. She'd told him she could take care of herself. He'd believed her. Now, she wasn't so sure she believed herself. Oh, sure she could perform all the basic functions. She could keep herself alive. She could get through her daily workload – and do a damn good job of it. But something he made her realize is that there's a lot more to life than merely living.

The ringing of her cell phone startled her out of her reverie. She glanced at the caller ID quickly and felt a bit more of the tension she'd been carrying since he'd left slip slowly away. "Booth," she said on a sigh, "hello."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

He'd known being away from her wouldn't be easy. He'd come to relish the little things about their existence together – the way she hummed when she did laundry; the way she walked carefully across the apartment's hardwood floors when she was in heels so the clack-clacking heels didn't mar the wood; the sound of her voice when he first woke her up in the mornings; the soft, warm scent of her bedroom when he first pushed open the door. It was harder being away from her after having sat next to her on the couch and hearing her tell him she was ready for relationship he'd known was bearing down on them. Harder still after telling her he loved her and hearing her return the sentiment.

Harder even still when she answered her phone with the soft, breathy quality that told him she was feeling his absence in the same sharp way he was feeling the miles between them.

"Hey," he answered her softly in return. "How're you doing this morning?"

"I miss you," she said simply and it made his heart ache. He liked the softer side of her but when they were apart it would have been easier if she'd have been more of her usual distracted, busy sort of self.

"I miss you, too. Just two more days."

"How long will you be home?"

"Looks like about four days right now."

"So long?"

He heard the tinge of excitement in her voice and it made him smile. He was excited, too. Four days of her being _unadulterated_. With him. Damn right he was excited. "Four whole days, Bones. It'll be great."

"Is everything going okay?"

"Yeah. We're just trying to get our ducks in a row for Thursday."

"That's an idiom, right? You're not actually trying to put ducks in a row?"

He chuckled. He'd missed her literal interpretations. "No, no actual ducks."

"Well, I wouldn't be surprised," she said with a huff. "It's not like I have any idea what you're doing there."

"It's called undercover for a reason, Bones."

"You could be impersonating a zookeeper for all I know."

"You're the only zookeeper right now. How's the baby?"

She sighed and he couldn't help but smile. "I suppose he's fine. I feel fine and there's no sign of a problem."

"I'm glad to hear _she's_ fine."

"We're not going to start this again, are we?"

"What? It's just a pronoun."

"You'd still rather have a girl, wouldn't you?"

"I'd _like_ a girl, but there's no _rather_ about it. We're going to have an amazing kid, Bones. It doesn't matter if we have a boy or a girl."

"You know we've got an appointment next week to find out the sex of the baby."

They did? Was it time for that already? And how could he have forgotten? "When's the appointment?"

"Wednesday."

He groaned.

"You're going to be in Idaho on Wednesday, aren't you?"

Great. She sounded pissed. "Well, it's not my fault."

"Well, it's not _my_ fault, either."

"Can you move the appointment?"

"Doctor Ashbacher is a busy man, Booth."

"Yeah, well, so am I." He struggled to maintain his composure. "Is it not important to you that I be there for that? 'Cause it's damn sure important to me."

"It wouldn't be _exciting_ enough if _I_ were to tell you the sex of our baby? You've got to hear it from some stranger?" Her tone was pissy and it rubbed him the wrong way.

"No, dammit! I want to experience that with you! I want to see the look on your face when you find out what we're having. I want to be able to lean over and kiss you when they point out the fuzzy part of the screen that shows it's a girl. Or a boy," he rushed on when she started to protest. "I want to be there to use the word 'son' or 'daughter' in a sentence for the first time with certainty when I tell you I'm going to love both of you forever."

He could tell she'd started crying right at the same moment there was a none-too-subtle knocking at his door. Damn Krantz. Damn case. Stupid fucking Idaho. "Look, baby, I don't want to argue with you. I just wanted to be able to be there. I'm sorry I upset you." He pulled his hotel room door open and indicated the phone before Krantz could speak. "I'd love it if you could change the appointment – I really do want to be there."

"I want you to be there too," she said with a hiccup. "But it's not my fault you're not here."

He resisted the urge to yell at her. "It's not my fault I'm not there, either. This is my _job_ , Brennan."

She gasped and he replayed what he said as if he had a tape recorder. Mother fucker, son of a bitch.

"You don't _ever_ call me Brennan."

She was right. He _didn't_ ever call her Brennan. But Krantz was making eyes at his wristwatch and shifting restlessly from one foot to the other. It was time to move. "Bones, look, I've got to go. We'll talk about this more later."

"Sure. Fine."

Shit. Why did she have to sound so distant? "I love you."

"I love you, too."

When he hung up he was sure she had, for the very first time, thrown those words at a person as a social convention rather than with true meaning. Which felt like ten giant leaps backwards considering he'd only just gotten her to say it and mean it.

He grabbed his wallet and gun off the dresser. "Are you ready?" he snapped at Krantz.

Krantz just grinned. "Yeah, Jenny was a real bear when she was pregnant, too. I couldn't keep my foot out of my mouth from the moment she told me she was pregnant until the moment she delivered. Or since, come to think of it."

Booth couldn't help but glare at him. "I asked if you were ready, not for the four o'clock Dr. Phil message of the day."

Krantz chuckled, "Yeah, man, I'm ready."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Later that evening when she stood at the sink washing the dinner dishes, she wondered how that conversation had gone downhill so quickly. She'd half expected him to call her back all day. She puttered around for the rest of the evening and she couldn't recall ever having done something that qualified as "puttering". Finally, at eleven o'clock she decided that waiting for him to call was really about as passive aggressive as she was willing to get and picked up the land line extension on her desk to dial his number.

She hadn't even started to dial when it rang in her hand, startling her. She waited until the second ring and the caller ID scrolled his cell number across the small window.

"I'm so sorry," she answered the phone in a rush.

"Dr. Brennan?" an unfamiliar voice asked.

"Who is this?" she demanded as fear prickled across her shoulder blades.

"It's Ted Krantz, Dr. Brennan."

"I was just about to call Booth. Is everything all right?"

"Well," he hemmed and she could have screamed at him to get on with the point, "he was…injured tonight. He's going to be fine," he rushed on.

"Injured how?" she asked as she sank down into her desk chair.

"Honestly?" the man asked as if she'd actually want him to make something up. "In a bar fight."

She could practically see the sheepishness on his face even though she'd never met him. "In a _bar fight_?" She paused for his answer but it wasn't forthcoming. He seemed to believe she was being rhetorical. Moron. "Exactly how _injured_ is he?"

"His cheekbone is fractured. And he needs stitches in a few places – he's actually with a nurse now."

"His cheekbone?" she scoffed. "His zygomatic or the maxilla?"

He fumbled for words, "I don't know."

"Well, in the future, cheekbone is entirely less than descriptive, Agent Krantz."

She could hear Booth, then, in the background. "It was my zygomatic. Tell her that. She'll want to know."

He chuckled and it irritated her. "Did you catch that?"

"Yes. I did. Exactly how undercover can you be if you're calling me from the hospital?"

"This isn't strictly protocol, Dr. Brennan, but Booth was pretty sure you'd be pissed if he waited to tell you."

"I'm not sure 'pissed' is the word I would have used," she muttered. "Is he available to speak?"

He laughed outright that time. "While a nurse is threading a needle through his face? Not likely."

She decided she didn't like the man at all. "Clearly he's capable of speaking, Agent Krantz. Please put him on."

The man sighed aggrievedly. "I'll put him on speaker, Dr. Brennan."

"Hey, Bones." he said with a bit of tired humor in his voice. "Don't be mad. That's why I had him call."

"I'm sorry to say it didn't quite work, then. A _bar fight_ , Booth?"

"Things got a little rowdy tonight."

"Please tell me you were undercover while this happened and not just sitting around having a drink."

"Would that make it better?" he sounded genuinely confused.

"I _would_ prefer to think it's your undercover character that engages in bar brawls rather than you."

He sighed, his good humor gone. "Yeah, Bones, it was my undercover 'character'." She could practically hear the air quotes he'd thrown around the word.

"Are you still coming home on Thursday?"

There was a rustling on his end of the line and she pictured him shifting restlessly on the hospital bed. "Yeah. Did you call Dr. Ashbacher's office?"

"Yes. There were no open appointments for Monday."

He sighed. "Yeah. Okay. Look, the painkillers are doing a number on me. I'll call you tomorrow."

The tone of his voice made her feel like she'd done something horribly wrong. "Okay."

"Get some rest, huh?"

"You too."

"'Night, Bones."

"Goodnight," she said and hung up after the dial tone sounded in her ear. She was crawling into bed before she realized he hadn't told her he loved her before he disconnected. She was pretty new to ending conversations that way but she was fairly certain it was a bad sign.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Booth groaned when his alarm shook him out of a deep sleep. His face hurt like a sonuvabitch and he had to piss like a race horse. He rolled out of bed and shuffled to the bathroom. When he flicked on the light it made him squint which made his cheek throb so he shut it back off. He relieved himself in what he remembered to be the general direction of the toilet but he couldn't be sure – it was so damn dark in the little room.

His mind flashed to the events of the previous evening. Drinks with the suspects at Maury's. Bar fight with some big-ass-motherfucker who slammed his face into the bar. Hospital. Stitches. Phone call to Bones. He didn't remember much of it but he had a feeling it wasn't a good conversation since he had the nagging feeling he needed to call her and that he needed to do it soon.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

She'd waited up until one for him to call but the call never came. Some irrational part of her also had her throwing her phone down three words into a quick text. He'd call when he called and she'd be mad until then. Thursday dawned and she was tired and irritable from a lack of sleep. The baby fluttered around in her womb and she realized she'd actually been feeling it for several days before she'd figured out what it was.

She ached to tell Booth. But she'd wait. He'd call when he could. And anyway, he'd be back that evening. Some time. It occurred to her she'd never actually asked him when his plane would be landing. Or whether or not he wanted her to pick him up.

She'd known relationships were difficult and confusing. She'd been in several over the years – though she wouldn't classify any of them as serious as the relationship she had with Booth. She'd never imagined, though, that things would get so complicated within a week of _starting_ a relationship.

After she'd gone through the motions of most of her day, she opened minesweeper and started playing just so she could take her mind off things – something she rarely felt inclined to do.

Then, after more games than she could count, her phone rang. She glanced at the caller ID and saw Booth's name. Her heart, she would have sworn it, skipped a beat. "Booth?"

"It's eight o'clock. Where are you?"

She looked down at the clock on her computer's desktop. "It's eight? Already?"

"Yeah, it's eight. I'm home and you're not."

"When did you get in?"

"About fifteen minutes ago. I thought you'd be here. Are you on your way?" Wow, was he in a mood.

"Yes, I am," she said, yanking on her sweater while shutting down her computer."

She heard him take a deep breath and she hoped it was a calming one. She had no desire to spend the evening him while he behaved less like the man she loved and more like a bear with a thorn in its paw. "I'm sorry, Bones. I'm in a crappy mood and I'm taking it out on you." He dropped his voice. "I've missed you."

"I've missed you, too." She hurried out of the Jeffersonian into the parking garage. "I'll stop by the Indian place and get dinner. Why don't you take a hot shower and get comfortable. Settle in a little. I'm sure you'll feel better then."

"I bet I will." Finally, he sounded a little more like himself.

"And I've got good news."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I'll share it with you when I get home."

"I'm looking forward to it."

By the time she got home, though, she realized she hadn't felt the baby move in _hours_. She'd so wanted to be able to press his hand against her belly and watch the look of wonder dawn across his face. Well, it was early yet. She set the food down on the counter in the kitchen and turned just in time to watch him walk into the room.

She gasped and her hands flew up to cover her mouth. He looked _awful_. "Oh, god, Booth." She strode forward and reached gentle fingertips out to brush against the angry purple that splotched across his cheek. He had stitches at his hairline, across the worst part of the bruise on his cheek and near his jaw line.

"It's not as bad as it looks," he demurred.

She seriously doubted that. She spared him a pained glance and rose up onto her toes to place a light kiss against his uninjured cheek. "It looks pretty bad."

"Nothing time and some pain killers won't fix." He wrapped his arms around her waist. "And what kind of greeting is that, anyway? A kiss on the cheek? I've been gone over a week."

The grin he shot at her spread up to his eyes in a wince despite his valiant effort to hide his pain. She pressed a tender kiss to his lips anyway and gasped when he tugged her firmly against him, slanted his mouth over hers and coaxed her mouth open so he could kiss her properly.

She lost herself in him as his tongue flicked against hers then traced the tips of her incisors. He tasted just right to her, despite the slightly bitter undertones that told her he'd recently taken another dose of his medications. He felt just right, too, warm and solid against her. She'd been worried about something. Upset, even. But she was hard pressed to remember why as she fisted her hands in his shirt and gave back as good as she got on a kiss that made her pulse thrum her with a speed that threatened to make her lightheaded.

She reached up to place a palm on his cheek and he hissed into her mouth. She jerked back from him – she'd inadvertently pressed against his injured zygomatic. "Oh, Booth, I'm so sorry."

"Shh," he whispered and kissed her again.

But as he deepened the kiss she could feel him wince. "Booth," she said against his mouth, "we're going to hurt you."

He pulled back from her and looked her in the eyes. His mouth pulled into another grin – but that one was more calculated and didn't cause him the pain the last one had. "I think it's worth it."

She tutted. "It's worth it that you heal and that we don't have to hold back once you do."

"God, I missed you."

"I missed you, too." She turned from him and started pulling take-out cartons from the bag she'd set on the counter.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

She sighed. What was wrong, indeed? How could she explain how... _off_...she'd been feeling since he left? Did she even want to admit that she'd been feeling strange? What sort of power, exactly, would that give him if she did?

After several moments of deliberation she chose the easy way out. She pasted a bright smile on her face, turned to him and said, "Nothing. Nothing's wrong."

He looked at her as if he didn't believe her for a minute. Could he feel the crackle of strangeness in the air, too? He studied her a moment longer then finally said, "So you said you had good news?"

"Oh!" A genuine smile spread across her face and she turned to him again, abandoning the food. "I felt the baby move."

The smile that cracked his face that time was so large she was sure it was causing him pain but the delighted look in his eyes left no room for a wince of pain. As if by its own accord his hand shot out to rest on her belly. "You did? When?"

She nodded. "I figured it out today, but I think I've been able to feel it for several days."

His hand pressed harder against her and then he moved it to one side then the other before a look of disappointment clouded his eyes. "I can't feel her."

She shook her head. "I haven't felt her in hours. So far she's been most active in the mornings."

His hand jerked back from her stomach and he pointed at her accusingly. "You said 'her'."

"So?" Why would that be accusatory? They'd been swapping back and forth between pronouns for the entire length of her pregnancy. Granted, she usually opted for the masculine pronouns, but what did it really matter?

"So did you go to the doctor without me?"

"What?" What was he talking about? Then it dawned on her – he was afraid she'd gone ahead and seen Dr. Ashbacher and had the baby sexed since he was going to miss their original appointment anyway. "Booth, no! Of course I didn't. I called them back again today and asked to be put on the waiting list for Monday, just in case. But I promise I haven't gone without you."

He looked into her eyes as if he could verify the truth within them. Whatever he saw must have satisfied him because he finally said, "Yeah, okay," and turned to rifle through the food on the counter.

She laid a hand on his arm. "I wouldn't have done that. I know the appointment has caused a little friction between us. But Booth, I wouldn't have done that to you."

He looked at her and smiled. "I know, Bones."

She nodded. "Good."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

He couldn't shake the feeling that something was off and he was pretty sure it was his fault. He'd had his head all over the place with the case, with missing her, and then with painkillers. He was on some pretty good stuff and he had to fight to stay not only awake but coherent. He'd known he was coming home to her so he'd been on slow burn for days knowing that he could finally make love to her. Then with the painkillers came the realization that he probably _wouldn't_ be able to make love to her – not until he was able to lower his dose a little, anyway.

He was feeling guilty for leaving her. He was feeling guilty for blowing his top over the doctor's appointment when he knew she'd never purposely set out to exclude him.

He wasn't feeling at all like himself and he didn't like it.

That night, after they'd eaten and she'd had an opportunity to shower and change into comfortable clothing they sat together on the couch – she with a book and a glass of ice water, he with a basketball game and a beer she'd fought him over when she found out exactly what sort of meds he was on. He didn't figure one beer was going to hurt and he'd told her so. _That_ had gone over like a lead balloon. What a great way to spend his first night back.

So he extended a peace offering. "Look, I know I'm not going to be able to make it to the next appointment with you, but you need to go and make sure things are shaping up good with the baby."

She marked her page with her index finger and dropped her book into her lap. "Okay?"

"So I was thinking that maybe we don't find out what we're having."

"We _don't_ find out? You mean right now?"

He shook his head. "I mean at all. Let's be surprised when you deliver." He'd expected her to disagree immediately and was ready to compromise about just waiting until later. But then, a smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

"I think I'd like to be surprised."

"Really?"

She considered it. "Yes."

"That means nothing pink or blue. No frilly little themed baby shower with gender-specific gifts. You're okay with that?"

"Yes. I am."

He couldn't help but chuckle. "Really?"

"Are you going to keep asking me that?"

"No." He leaned over and pressed both their smiling lips into a gentle kiss. He leaned back and threaded his fingers through her hair. "I'm happy."

"Me, too."

"Really?" he teased.

She huffed exasperatedly but with a grin on her face.

He sobered a little. "Look, Bones, I'm sorry for the way I've been acting the last few days. It's just as hard on me being gone as it is on you being left alone."

"We don't quite feel like us, do we?"

"Not really, no."

"Is it because I told you I was ready for a relationship? Had you changed your mind? Are you not ready right now?"

"What? No!" How could she think that? "Bones, I love you. I've wanted you like this for as long as I can remember. Just, as usual, our timing sucks."

"Would you like to wait, then, until you're done with this assignment and back home for good?"

"Wait to be in a relationship with you?" He waited for her uncertain nod. "Not a chance. I want to be with you. Now. In the future. For the next thirty five years." He waited for her smile. "But let's try to cut each other a little slack. We're going to have to grow into the change a little."

She shifted until she was curled up against his side with head tucked into his shoulder. "That sounds very reasonable."

"So, are we okay?"

She squeezed his thigh with a warm hand. "Yes. We're okay."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Shortly after their conversation his eyelids began drooping as he was loosing the battle with his medication over wakefulness. She'd pulled him up off the couch and ushered him down the hall towards the bedroom. The light in his room caught her attention. On his bed were his bags. Oh. She'd fully considered they'd be sharing a bedroom once their relationship had changed. Perhaps she was wrong. She glanced at his face – he was practically asleep on his feet. It wasn't the time to discuss it with him.

So, she steered him into his bedroom, carefully set his bags on the floor at the foot of the bed and pulled back the blankets for him. He snuggled down into the bed, mewled like a kitten when she kissed his forehead, and was asleep before she'd even turned off his bedside lamp.

Well, so much for the exciting night of his return.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Friday night, after watching a kid-friendly movie and television and putting Parker to bed, Booth went to bed in his own room again. She lay in her bed, stewing. It had been a long day. He'd been busy at the bureau, she'd been busy at the lab, and by six o'clock they'd been sitting at the dinner table with a more-chatter-y-than-usual Parker. After dinner she'd cleaned the kitchen while Booth entertained Parker and then by eight they'd been staring at the television at a movie she couldn't even begin to describe the plot of.

She hadn't felt the baby move all evening and she'd been excited to share that with him. It seemed, though, that their baby preferred an audience of one.

Then she came full circle, back to Booth going to bed in his own room. She should have just said something to him about it but with Parker right there next to them it just never seemed the time. Then, almost as soon as he'd turned out Parker's light, he'd gone to bed himself.

She knew the painkillers made him tired, but so tired he couldn't have a private conversation with her all day?

Then, the baby moved. She felt the fluttering in her stomach and pressed her hand hard against the bump. Yes, she could feel it from the outside. She debated for several minutes about whether or not she should wake Booth up. Finally she decided on 'yes'.

In his room, though, she nearly changed her mind. He was sleeping soundly and snoring loudly. Perhaps she shouldn't be too upset about his choosing to sleep in his own room. She thought back to the several times he'd pressed his hand against her belly hoping to feel their child and her mind was made up.

She sat down on the edge of his bed and put a light hand on his shoulder. "Booth?" When there was no response she nudged him a little. "Booth?" When still there was no response she whomped him soundly on the shoulder, "Booth!"

He awoke with a jolt. "What's wrong? Is it Parker?"

"No," she soothed with a light chuckle, "it's the baby. She's kicking."

As his eyes lit up she realized, though, that the baby hadn't moved since she'd gotten up out of bed. "Well, she _was_ kicking." She reached for his hand and placed it on her belly. "Right here."

"I can't feel anything." The look of disappointment on his face was almost comical.

"Just give her a minute. I don't think she likes it when I'm moving around."

His face softened until she finally, for the first time since he'd been home, felt like she had _her_ Booth back. "Were you in bed when you felt her?"

"Yes."

"Maybe she likes to dance while you're lying down."

"Perhaps."

After she stared at him owlishly for a moment he heaved an exasperated sigh. "Then why don't you lie down?"

"Oh." She turned to lie down next to him – on top of the blankets.

"Wow, you're desperate to not be in bed with me, aren't you?"

She looked at him sharply. "What?"

"It's the middle of the night, Bones, and you won't just get into bed with me. Why not?"

"Me? _You're_ the one who wanted to sleep here alone?"

"When did I say that?"

"Last night!" He quirked an eyebrow at her and she realized he hadn't _actually_ said that. "Well, you put your bags in here."

"So?"

"So, this is your room and you put your bags in here."

"Again, so?"

"Well, I just assumed that meant you wanted to continue using this room."

"You know what they say about assuming?" She blinked at him and he chuckled. "Never mind. It was force of habit, babe. Of course I'd rather be sleeping with you. I thought _you_ didn't want to be sleeping with me considering you put me in here last night."

She couldn't help but laugh. "We've been a bit of a mess lately, haven't we?"

"As it turns out, talking is pretty good for a relationship."

"And we haven't done much talking lately, have we?"

He caressed her belly gently. "No."

"You know," she said softly, "my bed is bigger. And much more comfortable than this one."

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" His grin made her tingle in all sorts of interesting places.

"I'm thinking you should come to bed with me."

He flung back the covers and nearly leapt out of bed. "That's _exactly_ what I was thinking."

He was halfway to her room when before she'd even made it out of his and she couldn't help but laugh. And by the time she got to her door he was already tucking himself in comfortably to the side of the bed she never used. He patted the empty space next to him. "Now come lie down already so I can feel the zookeeper move."

She did. She _happily_ did. But half an hour later he'd fallen asleep with his hand on her stomach waiting for their baby to move again – which she never did.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

When he woke up the next morning, his arm was asleep. Sometime in the night they'd changed positions until he was lying on his back and she was using his upper arm as a pillow. She had a leg thrown over one of his and a hand on his chest and the sweet curve of her pregnant belly pressed into his ribs.

Now _that_ was more like it. He'd been waiting months to go to bed with her. Granted he'd always anticipated more sex and less sleeping when he finally got her into bed – but beggars can't be choosers.

The pins and needles in his hand forced him into action, though, and she mewled discontentedly as he jostled her head back onto the pillow. He raised his arm into the air and flexed his hand a few times hoping for better blood flow and she took the opportunity to slide closer in to him and tuck her head up on his shoulder under his chin.

Bones was a cuddler. How about that? He flashed back to a moment on the pull out couch in her living room when they were lying very much the way they were at the moment. To a moment when she pressed the needy parts of her body into him and searched for relief. In mere seconds he was as hard as he could ever remember being. She'd been warm and willing in his arms for just moments that time. She was warm in his arms this time, too – but was she as willing? He certainly wasn't going to molest her in her sleep – at least not before they'd actually slept together for the first time.

And then he felt it – a tiny pressure against his ribs. It left and then returned before quickly leaving again. Bones made a slight sound and her hand drifted down to press against her belly but she didn't awaken. And suddenly he realized what he was feeling.

"Bones," he whispered against her forehead before pressing a kiss there, "wake up." She stirred but still slept. He eased her over until she was lying on her back and ran his hand from the crest of her belly to the place slightly on her right that had been pressed against him. Then, against the flat of the palm, he felt the tiny strike. "Bones," he urged again. He tried kissing her again, this time against the shell of hear.

She hummed and her lips turned up into a smile. "Mmmm. Morning."

"I can feel the baby kick," he said with excitement."

She opened her eyes and he was momentarily taken aback by the softness there. And then, almost instantly, he watched recognition dawn. "You did?" Her hand flew down to join his. She pressed him further into her belly – so hard he'd never have pushed so hard on his own and in a way that made him flash back many weeks to the moment she she'd first pressed his hand against the tiny knot within her that would eventually become this moment – and the tiny kicks he could feel were suddenly strong against him.

"Wow," he breathed with reverence as his eyes drifted down to take in the tableau of her rounded belly and their tangled hands, "that's amazing."

"It is, isn't it?"

He looked back up at her and she looked so…perfect. Her skin was flushed pink from sleep and the heat of his skin. Her hair was a wild riot of waves. Her eyes were bright and shining and he just couldn't help himself – he moved to kiss her.

And as their lips fused together he was suddenly reminded he no longer had to check the impulse to kiss her. Or to touch her. She was his. Finally.

As the kiss deepened and turned from something celebratory into something much more heated, baby elephant-like footsteps thundered down the hall. Booth groaned into Brennan's mouth. "He has really bad timing."

Bones smiled against his lips. "At least he knocks," she points out as Parker's footfalls stop and knuckles rapping against wood take their place.

"C'mon in, bud." Booth called as he moved to lie next to Bones rather than hovering over her.

Parker eased the door open and poked his head into the room. "You _are_ in here."

Booth nodded. "I am."

"I can come in?" the boy verifies and waits until he gets a smile and nod from both adults.

"If you come quickly you can feel the baby kick," Bones put in.

That seemed to spur him into action because not only did he enter but he catapulted himself onto the bed. "Where do I put my hand?" he asked Brennan excitedly.

Bones took his wrists and guided his hand to her belly. The baby kicked against Parker's hand and the boy's face just lit up in the way Booth had only ever seen it do for soccer. "Cool," the kid exclaimed with reverence.

"Yes," Brennan nodded as her face split into a wide grin. "It is cool, isn't it?"

Booth took a moment to soak it all in. This was his life now. This woman, his son, his soon to be newborn, all piled in on a Saturday morning. He couldn't help himself so he shared, "I love you guys, you know?"

Parker just rolled his eyes and smiled slightly. "We know, dad."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Somewhere between meeting Booth and Parker at the Royal Diner for lunch after church, and pulling the rest of Booth's laundry out of the dryer, Brennan realized their time was up. Booth was headed back to Idaho in a little over an hour and she wouldn't see him for another week. The whole situation was awful. She was nineteen weeks pregnant. She was newly in a relationship. The last thing she wanted was to send him back out into the fray with people who broke his face. And yet, she thought as she folded another pair of boxers, that is precisely what she had to do.

Between his injuries, their slight misunderstanding, and having Parker for the weekend, their first few nights as a couple hadn't gone quite the way she'd expected. She sighed and hoisted the folded stack of laundry off the dryer and headed towards the living room where his open duffle bag sat on the coffee table.

She'd just put the last of his clothes into the bag, zipped it and set it by the door when he came bursting in. "Damn it!"

"Booth, what's wrong?"

He looked down at his watch. "I've got to be on a plane in an hour."

"I know."

"I've got to pack. I'm sorry, babe. I thought this weekend would go differently."

"You don't have to pack."

He seemed flummoxed by her fixation on that part of his statement. "Uh, why not?"

She gestured at the bag. "You're packed."

"So you mean we've got an honest to goodness hour to ourselves?"

"Just you and me."

He grinned. "Yeah. Just you and me."

Which was, of course, the moment his cell phone rang.

She was so disappointed she didn't want to stay in the room while he talked. She busied herself in the kitchen while he has an increasingly loud conversation with someone she can only assume was Cullen. Suddenly the angry timbre of his voice was gone and she realized his conversation must be over.

When he joined her in the kitchen he looked chagrined, disappointed, and not just a little pissed. "You're not going to believe this."

"Cullen needs you do go by the bureau for some reason or another on your way to the airport?"

"You heard?"

"No. But I am woman of above average intelligence. And also am, apparently, incredibly unlucky. Therefore, it was the logical conclusion."

"You know I really am sorry, right?"

"Booth." She crossed the room so she could wrap her arms around him. "It is true, this weekend didn't go exactly how I planned it. But you were here, you are safe, we spent a couple of fantastic days with your son, and you got to feel the baby kick. What more could I have asked for?"

"Oh, I don't know," he replied drolly, "sex?"

"We'll have sex next time."

"Oh, you better believe we will. Twice even."

"I'd hope more than twice."

He groaned into her neck and pressed a hot kiss against her skin. "You are beautiful and I love you."

"I love you, too. And now it's time for you to go."

He backed away from her slowly. "Yeah. Okay."

At the front door he picked up his bag. "I've got everything?"

"Everything you came with is back in that bag."

"Okay."

"Be safe, Booth."

"You too."

"I'm not worried about me."

"I am, always." He took a long, hard look at her, swept his eyes over her face then down to her belly, then held her eye until her breath caught. "I'll be home soon."

All she could do was nod and then he was gone.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

By Monday evening whatever peace she'd found regarding Booth's abrupt departure and their abbreviated weekend had fled. She found herself wandering around the apartment and daydreaming about his return. And Temperance Brennan, well, she just didn't daydream.

She hadn't heard from him since he'd left and calls to both his cell phone and hotel room went unanswered. She wasn't worried. Not _really_. It stood to reason that if something had happened to him she'd have been notified. Unless… perhaps Cullen was unaware of their change in relationship status. However, she'd been his emergency contact for quite sometime. Although, it _was_ possible something had happened to him and the FBI didn't yet know about it.

It was at that point she started making vigilant phone calls to Booth on the hour and half hour. It was nearly eleven o'clock when he finally answered.

"You know, Bones, you make it damned hard to be undercover."

"You're alive."

"What? Of course I'm alive."

"Forgive me for my surprise, Booth, but it's been almost thirty hours since you left."

"I don't call…I don't write…"

"Damn it, Booth. Don't be glib."

"Jeez. You're really upset, aren't you?"

"I find that I'm having a strong emotional reaction to your absence."

"I feel like we're about to fight again. And we had such a nice weekend."

She didn't really have anything to say to that. They _had_ had a nice weekend. And, if the conversation kept up the way it had so far then yes, they were about to fight again.

"We really do better when we talk. I thought we'd ironed this part out."

"It's hard to talk when you don't answer the phone."

"You understand I'm working, right? That I'm not on some vacation somewhere knocking back umbrella drinks and playing shuffle board?"

"Of course I understand you're working."

"Then what's really going on here?"

"What if something happens to you?"

"Nothing's going to happen to me, Bones. Krantz and I are safe as houses."

"You know that's not true. And I'm insulted you'd think I'd be so naïve as to believe that."

"Okay. Then how about we're being as careful as we can be? We're going to get our guy so I can come home. But to do that I've got to work while I'm here. And as much as I'd like to, I can't pick up the phone every time you call. And I'm not necessarily going to be able to talk to you every day."

"But you'll be talking to _some_ body everyday, right?"

"What do you mean?"

"You check in with someone from the FBI every day, don't you?"

"Well, yeah."

"And what happens if you don't check in?"

"Then they come find me, Bones. I'm not left out here alone."

"And someone will call me, right?"

"If I don't check in?"

"Yes."

"No."

"No?!"

"Easy there, Bones. The FBI doesn't immediately start notifying family when agents miss one check in."

"But…"

"What is it?"

She had a tough time continuing the thought though she wasn't completely sure why.

"Bones, baby, what is it?"

"The FBI…do they think of me as your family?"

"Oh," he says on a long sigh. "That's what this is about?"

"Yes."

"Bones, I don't know how to break it to you, but you've been my next of kin for over three years."

"Oh."

"Yeah. So _if_ something happens – and it's a long shot, you've gotta know – they'll call you. You'll be the first to know."

"Okay, then."

"So you feel better?"

"I think I do."

"Good."

And it was good. As they continued to chat about things of little consequence she felt the knots in her belly, the ones she hadn't even really been aware of, begin to smooth out. And by the time she crawled into bed and his smooth voice bid her goodnight she thought, perhaps, tomorrow might be a better day. Because they were family. And the important people knew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, on with business… I'm not sure how quickly an update will happen again; I've got a WIP in progress for another fandom and I'm back in school (was I in film school last time I was here? Can't remember, but I am – for screenwriting). I am rolling on this one again, though, so it's safe to assume it'll see its completion. I'm just not certain I'll be able to update it on a regular schedule.
> 
> (Yes, I started watching the show again. No, I haven't been able to bring myself to watch Season 8 and I'll likely not watch Season 9 for a while. But I've started watching again, and so here I am. I always sort of thought I'd get my mojo back if I could find my love for the series again. And, for me, the answer is to pretend – for now, at least – that Seasons 7-9 don't exist. And, not for nothing, but this story started WAY back during Season 5. So for the purposes of this story, let's just say that anything past the second half of the fifth season is just toast. Okay? Now on with the show!)
> 
> Also, there are couple of really wonderful writer buddies who gently poked and prodded for this and even took it reasonably well when I said it was done and done for good – I didn't tell you it was coming on purpose. Surprise. ;-) Love you gals!


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